


so i thought i'd give you a try

by dgalerab



Series: a fix-it, but more [7]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Don't Be Fooled It's Soft Schmoop, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy Kink, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Medical Kink, Orgasm Delay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-01-31 12:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21446128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dgalerab/pseuds/dgalerab
Summary: It's a new millennium and Richie and Eddie are celebrating by trying some new things.And also with cuddling.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: a fix-it, but more [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1513076
Comments: 68
Kudos: 368





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know what this fic is other than "i thought richie and eddie would laugh their way through any amount of kink and that's nice and soft kinks are good"
> 
> (a minor warning for a reference to the bowers gang making very rapey/homophobic comments and a single use of the f-slur. i've marked it with a single * before and after those paragraphs so that part can be skipped easily enough?)
> 
> lmk if i missed anything!

“We should kiss too,” Richie says suddenly.

Eddie looks up from his yawn. “What?”

Richie pushes his long hair out of his eyes. “Let’s kiss at midnight with everyone else,” he says again.

Eddie gapes at him like a dead fish.

Richie shifts awkwardly. “Unless…?”

“No!” Eddie blurts, before he loses this little flash of daring, this little glimpse of hope that maybe they’ll be able to stop hiding from the world. “I’m just surprised, is all.”

“Well,” Richie says, “it’s a new millennium, Eds. Maybe things’ll look up for us gays this century, eh?”

“There’s already civil partnership laws in Cali,” Bill says. “So…”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “See? Might even be our decade!”

Mike shuffles over to block them from view from the people behind them. Since everyone’s looking ahead, waiting for the ball to drop, it shields them from view pretty well.

Richie twists to grin up at him. “Saint Hanlon. Patron to the gays.”

“Just doing my duty as the only guy here taller than you,” Mike teases back.

“Oh, rub it in, will ya? Can you even see Eddie from up there?”

“Fuck off, asshole,” Eddie says, but he takes Richie’s hand, pressing their palms together through their gloves.

“Countdown’s about to start,” Stan informs them, trying not to look proud of them.

Eddie hears it start, vaguely. He’s looking up at Richie, wild hair down to his shoulders and thick glasses and hideous colorful scarf tucked into his green coat. And Richie looks at him, and smiles, just a little nervous but not  _ scared. _

_ Our millennium, _ Eddie thinks, because he’d spend a thousand years with Richie if he could.

He doesn’t think he makes it all the way until midnight before he’s pulling Richie down to kiss him, but when the ball drops and everyone cheers, Eddie’s still kissing him. And then for a few seconds longer.

Richie pulls away first, because they’re in public and he’s shaking, but he doesn’t let go of Eddie’s hand.

After all, it’s dark and they’re both wearing thick coats in the freezing New York cold, and Eddie’s bundled in a scarf and hat with flaps because he gets cold easily, especially when he’s tired.

So maybe no one even knows.

But it doesn’t matter, because Richie’s squeezing his hand all the way home.

**

Eddie wakes up to Richie kissing his nose.

“Morning,” he says, and Eddie can hear his grin, but he refuses to open his eyes.

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Eddie mutters.

“Nope, come on,” Richie says. “It’s noon. Time to wake up.”

“Fuck offffffff,” Eddie says, rolling them over and trying to squeeze his squirming boyfriend into submission. “I’m on vacation.”

“You’re gonna be crabby all day if you don’t take up now,” Richie laughs. “You know this.”

“Mmm,” Eddie says, smelling Richie’s hair, obviously freshly washed. Hoping to get lucky, no doubt. “Is someone feeling needy?”

“Horribly,” Richie teases.

“Well, you’re fucking leaving me,” Eddie says, nipping at his shoulder teasingly. “So fuck you.”

“I’m going on  _ tour,” _ Richie says. “For two weeks. You’ve been living in the hospital for about as long.”

“It’s called a residency for a reason,” Eddie mumbles.

“Well,” Richie says. “I got a real big problem here myself, doc.” He grinds against Eddie, and Eddie finally cracks an eye open.

“You and your medical kink,” Eddie says. “You know my job is to cut people open, right?”

“Hot,” Richie says, winking.

Eddie groans. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Hey, more holes means more to fuck.”

“Please shut up,” Eddie says. “Please. I’m trying to be attracted to you.”

“Eddie, I think at this point we’ve both realized there’s nothing that could turn us off of each other,” Richie says. 

“That doesn’t mean you have to push it,” Eddie says, kissing Richie’s throat softly to make him shiver.

“Eddie,” Richie murmurs, very softly. “You ever have anything new you wanna try?”

“Hm?” Eddie asks, settling back onto his chest to look at him. “Like?”

“Like, remember years ago when you asked me what my kinks are?” Richie asks. “And at the time I was too scared to have any?”

“Oh,” Eddie says, blinking. “Yeah. Is this how long it takes your brain to work?”

“Haha,” Richie says dryly. “No. Well, yes, sort of, but I was thinking about it being New Year’s Day.”

Eddie nods seriously. “New Year’s sexolutions.”

“Fuck!” Richie shouts. “How’d you beat me to it?!”

“You made the set up pretty obvious,” Eddie said. “And I listen to your comedy, even if I don’t show it.” He pokes Richie in the nose and Richie spits and flounders dramatically.

“Well, fine,” Richie says. “I guess I’ll have to learn how to remove an appendix, since apparently you’re taking over  _ my _ job.”

“Mhmm,” Eddie says, yawning. “So you have shit you wanna try?”

“Well,” Richie says, sitting up. “I thought we could both come up with a few things. Like… four each.”

“Four, huh?” Eddie asks, peering up at Richie. 

“I don’t actually have a list,” Richie says, blushing pink. “I just don’t think I’ll be able to think of any more.”

“Right,” Eddie says. “Can we have breakfast first?”

Richie nods, looking very adorable as he tries to bounce back from the mortifying ordeal of openly expressing his sexual desires.

Eddie kisses his cheek and shoves him out of bed, then stumbles out into the living room.

“Good morning,” Stan says. “Would it kill you to wear pants?”

“Stan, we literally moved,” Eddie says. He’s wearing boxers, which feels like enough when he’d worked graveyard shifts for two whole weeks in order to take a vacation until Richie goes on tour. “You moved with us. How are you still complaining about how we live?”

(They’d moved in part because Richie had started getting much, much bigger checks for gigs in the past year, and in part because their building had developed a very severe roach infestation, which, frankly, none of them wanted to put up with.)

(They’d assumed that this meant Stan would get a new place. Instead, they’d just gotten a bigger apartment and Patty had moved the last of her things in from her parents’ place.)

“Someone has to,” Stan says. “There’s oatmeal on the stove.”

“Thanks,” Eddie says, and starts eating straight from the pot with the ladle.

“Gross,” Richie says. “What if we still wanted some of that?”

“Fuck off,” Eddie mutters. “We’re swapping spit all the time anyway.”

Richie puts his hands over his heart. “I’m so proud of you.”

Eddie kicks him in the shin.

**

It takes Eddie to really compile a list.

He mostly just likes touching Richie, and when something feels good, he does more of it. He doesn’t know if he has specific  _ kinks. _

But first he puts down:

  1. Denial

Because the longer Richie goes without coming, the easier it is to make him come untouched and he wants Richie to come on his dick. The rest follow a little easier.

  1. Blowjobs

He’s waffled around on that one for a while, because he can’t imagine it tastes very good. But he likes doing stuff with his mouth, and since Richie’s always bottoming, Eddie wants to show him the joys of sticking your dick in something warm and wet. Preferably without having a part of his brain unable to stop wondering whether or not he’d know if he was shitting on his boyfriend’s dick.

  1. Doctor rp?

He puts a question mark because he has a few ideas, but he doesn’t know if it’s actually something Richie is into or just an easy bit. But given Richie’s voices, he’s always wondered how roleplay might go with him. Richie’s a pretty good actor, but whether or not he can put it to good use…

The last one is more of an image than an actual idea, and he doesn’t know how to phrase it. So he decides to say it in a way that will make Richie laugh.

  1. Cleaning kink

He finishes the last point and then waits for Richie to finish packing away the food (and argue with Stan what to call their non-denominational wintertime pine tree, currently decorated with every color of lights and several stars of David).

Richie returns and sits on the bed.

“I have a list,” Eddie says, waving the paper at him. “Now you.”

“You wrote it down?” Richie asks. “You weirdo.”

“Yeah, jackass,” Eddie says. “That’s how lists work.”

“You can make a list without writing it down,” Richie says. “The Beatles, The Beegees, The Beastie Boys. A list of bands that all with The B.”

“That’s your first thought?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah.”

“It’s more exciting to write it down,” Eddie says. “And then we’ll read it to each other.”

“Hang on, is being a nerd on your list?” He tries to peek, and Eddie smacks him.

Richie giggles and gets a pen and paper, curling up with it. “Fine. But no looking.”

Eddie sighs and rolls over so he’s not looking, tapping his foot until Richie finally throws himself down on the bed beside him.

Eddie scoots up so they’re sitting across from each other. “Alright, who’s first?”

“You sound like a school teacher,” Richie snorts. “Alright, class, who’s reading their kink list first?”

“Ew,” Eddie replies.

Richie bites his lip. “You go first.”

Eddie notes his nerves and nods.

“Um… so the first one is denial,” Eddie says. Richie raises a brow. “But it’s a two parter. I want you to not touch yourself on tour.”

“For two weeks?” Richie whines. “But  _ Eds…”  _

“And when you get come I wanna see if I can make you come on my dick,” Eddie says. “Without touching yours.”

Richie blinks at him. “Oh. Okay. Um.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah.” 

“I could be convinced,” Richie says. “But you gotta call me every night anyway.”

“Oh, no, I only ever talk to you for sex,” Eddie says, as sarcastically as possible.

“I always knew,” Richie says, grinning. “Okay. Continue.”

“Blowjobs,” Eddie says.

Richie goes very still. Eddie can see his throat work as his tongue licks over his front teeth, nervous.

“Rich,” Eddie says. “We can’t do this if you’re not gonna tell me when you’re not sure about something.”

Richie laughs, slightly bitter, and nods his head reluctantly. “I don’t think I wanna suck your dick.”

Eddie looks Richie up and down. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Only if you won’t freak,” Richie says. “Not because I don’t think it’s worth freaking over or anything, I’m not fucking stupid, but it was a while ago and I don’t want to dredge up all the feelings again now. It’s all just…” 

“Derry?” Eddie suggests quietly.

Richie nods. “Derry.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’ll try not to freak out.”

*

“Patrick Hockstetter used to say if he knocked my front teeth out, I’d probably suck cock pretty well. And he made it pretty clear he was tempted to put it to the test,” Richie mutters.

It’s very, very hard not to lose it. Eddie has to take many, many deep breaths. “Fuckin’ asshole,” he mutters.

“What sucked about it,” Richie says, “other than the rapey-ness, and the making me feel awful about my fucking teeth when I lived with a dentist, and the… fucking violence, was just how fucking unfair it was that if Patrick fuckin’ Hockstetter threatens to beat me into giving him a fucking blowjob, it’s fine, but if I wanna hold a boy’s hand I’m a fag.”

Eddie has to wipe at his eyes at that. “Yeah,” he chokes out. “Well. He got eaten by a clown and we fucking killed it, so screw him.”

*

Richie laughs at that, and Eddie feels like maybe his purpose in life is just to make Richie laugh.

“I like your front teeth,” Eddie says, shoving his finger in Richie’s mouth to poke at them. Richie laps at the finger like a dog and then pulls away, laughing. “They’re cute.”

“Shut up,” Richie laughs.

“I’m serious, Richie, I didn’t just think of this now,” Eddie says. “Oh, man, they’re so fucking cute. They make your smile so goddamn adorable it kills me.”

Richie grins, wide. “You trying to sweet talk me into blowing you?”

“I never was gonna ask you to blow me,” Eddie says. “I want to blow you.”

Richie chokes. “What?!”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “That sound better?”

“Fuck,” Richie breathes. “You know you have to put my  _ dick _ in your  _ mouth _ for that, right?”

“Yes, Richie, I know how a blowjob works,” Eddie says.

“Is that hygienic?” Richie asks. “Can you use a condom for that?”

“I’m gonna ask you to wash your dick,” Eddie says. “But nah, wasn’t planning on using a condom. We’re both clean, and there’s not really much risk of bacterial infections. But you do have to pee after or you might get a urinary tract infection, so…”

“Jesus Christ,” Richie manages. “You gonna swallow too?”

“Seems like the easiest way to clean up, yeah,” Eddie says.

Richie blushes bright red. “Fuck!”

Eddie grins, watching Richie for a moment longer. He still feels a little sick in his stomach, thinking of tiny little Richie, with the way Patrick loomed over him back in those days, and saying…

“Fuck, man, if I could go back in time and beat the everliving fuck out of Patrick for terrorizing little baby Richie, I would. You’d know me as the weird-ass twenty three year old who stormed into the men’s locker room to beat your bully into a pulp so you’d probably be terrified of me for reasons you didn’t understand when baby me started growing up, but hey.”

“Hell,” Richie says, “if you’d showed up, taller than me, beating the crap out of Patrick Hockstetter, saying you’re Eddie from the future where we’re boyfriends who kiss all the time, I would have bowed down before you and worshiped you like a god. Right after I was done swooning like an actual storybook princess.”

“Oh, man if you’d have told me we were gonna end up together when I was 13…” Eddie says.

“What you’d have offed yourself on the spot?” Richie teases.

“I’d have asked how gross you are in bed,” Eddie says. “And then I’d have gone… well that’s a relief, don’t have to worry about crushes anymore.”

“What would you say?” Richie asks, grinning over the worry about crushes. He’d found that very entertaining when Eddie had told him that crushes were stressful even when you had them strategically, because you were supposed to.

“About what?” Eddie asks. “Crushes? Screw ‘em.”

“About how gross I am in bed,” Richie clarifies. “But yeah, that’s pretty much what I did and I’m pretty happy.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “I’d take my dumb, tiny little self who was just learning how to masturbate without my mom finding out and I’d tell him you’re a fucking dream in bed, and then I’d let our dumb teenage asses try to figure out what the fuck that means.”

“Wow, you’re an asshole,” Richie laughs.

“Why, what would  _ you _ say to your teenage kid self about the kind of sex you’re going to have as an adult?” Eddie says, slinging an arm around Richie.

“I’d say,” Richie says, “you know that look Eddie gets when he does this thing?” He makes a karate chopping motion, and goddamn, Eddie  _ does  _ do that. All the time. “Get ready to have that distilled and pounded into your brain so fucking hard you can’t do jack shit but hang on for the ride. And also your ass.”

“No,” Eddie says. “That is not something you can tell a 13 year old boy.”

“Fine, I’d leave out the ass part,” Richie says.

“It’s all inappropriate!”

“Uh, you would have just beaten Patrick Hockstetter into smithereens in front of me,” Richie says. “I’d know.”

“Fine, then I’d tell 13 year old me that you’re a needy, soft mess in bed,” Eddie says. “And that you  _ drool _ over me bossing you around.”

“God, Eds, think of the children,” Richie laughs.

Eddie kicks him softly in the thigh.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” Richie says. “What’s next?”

“Um,” Eddie says. “Doctor roleplay. If you’re into that?”

“Aw, man, it was first on my list,” Richie whines. “It was gonna be a great joke.”

“Not really,” Eddie retorts, smiling. “But then… you like it?”

Richie nods. “Yeah. Be pretty hot to have you do a prostate exam. Tell me to stop squirming so you can be professional and call me Mr. Tozier and shit.”

“I have a few more ideas,” Eddie says, winking.

“Shit, Eds, you trying to kill me?” Richie whines.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing out his list.

“What’s the last one?”

“Cleaning kink,” Eddie says, probably blushing.

Richie bursts out laughing. “You seriously wrote that?”

Eddie hands him the paper.

Richie laughs harder. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“I mean, like, I’d get you in a bath,” Eddie says, “and I’d wash you all over and your hair and there would be a lot of really nice touching with a soap that smells really nice. And like, maybe I’d do your nails too, just to hold your hands, and… and like, when you’re nice and clean and warm and you smell nice, then I’d fuck you.”

Richie grins, preening with happiness. “That’s so cuuuuuute,” he says. “Cute cute cute!”

Eddie shoves a foot into his chest and nudges him pointedly. “Shush, you.”

“Never!”

“What’re yours?” Eddie asks. “C’mon, read it for the class.”

Richie giggles, and Eddie smiles at the laugh, resting his chin on his knees to watch him properly. “Okay,” Richie says, clearing his throat like he’s up before the class presenting his project. “Medical kink, obviously.”

Eddie nods. “Obviously.”

“Um,” Richie says, already losing all of his hard earned momentum. “Jealousy?”

Eddie raises his brow. “You hate it when I get jealous.”

“I  _ don’t _ though, I just don’t like… like being accused of looking when I wasn’t. Because I wouldn’t. But it’s… like… it’s hot?”

Eddie cocks his head. “So how would we do that?”

“I don’t actually know,” Richie says. “But I… like… I really want to? Like, I want you to get all possessive, but… I don’t know.”

Eddie frowns. “Okay. We’ll work on it. Try some things.”

Richie’s shoulders relax. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.”

Eddie smiles at him softly.

“And then… um… blindfolds? Bev says they make things really intense and you know I like to be overwhelmed into a stupor.”

Eddie grins. “I like that too.”

“And… um… also I wanna try… like, you calling me a slut,” Richie mumbles.

Eddie blinks at him. “Wait, what?”

“I don’t know… um… if I’ll like it or hate it,” Richie says. “Honestly. But like… talking to me like I literally can’t help wanting to be fucked. Like… like um… I don’t know, it’s not… like, my choice. Like I’d fuckin’ die without some cock to tide me over.”

Eddie slowly pieces that together. He’s stopped guilty about having gotten them together lately, but Eddie remembers the start, when it had been an unsaid burden in all their conversations. That he didn’t want sex to be his fault.

“I… actually had something similar planned for the doctor thing,” Eddie murmurs. “But less mean.”

Richie lets out a sigh of relief. “Yeah. Less mean is… that’s good.”

“I think you’ll like it,” Eddie says. “But tell me if you don’t, okay?”

Richie holds up his hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“Good boy,” Eddie says. “We can do it tomorrow night, if you want.”

“I have to wait that long?” Richie whines.

“Yes,” Eddie snorts. “I’m tired and I wanna cuddle. And maybe grind against each other and play some video games.”

“Wanna play some Mortal Combat?”

“No but I’ll sleep on your shoulder while you play.”

“Deal,” Richie says, and happily flops onto Eddie’s chest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i woke up early to write this second chapter bc we didn't have enough yerba mate for both me and my husband so i just straight up stole it
> 
> i thought i'd maybe make it through one weekend without compulsively posting but i was wrong

“Alright, I have to say,” Eddie says, “putting on a tie for sex is very weird.”

Richie grins, biting his lip. “I’m not complaining.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, putting his hands on his hips while he looks down at himself. He’s wearing a dark red button up, sleeves folded up above his elbows, a flowery tie Richie had gotten for him when they’d attended an event at Bev’s shop, slacks and a pair of loafers. “You like it?”

Being a surgeon means Eddie spends most of his time in scrubs. He doesn’t have to dress up much, but when he does it’s usually with a blazer. This is the first time he’s worn a dress shirt like this, and Richie had watched with laser focus when Eddie was rolling up his sleeves. He watches just as closely as Eddie snaps on his gloves.

Richie nods. “It’s a good look for you.”

Richie, on the other hand, is in his boxers, sitting on the edge of the bed. Eddie hopes he’s not freezing cold. He’d turned up the heat as far as he could without getting a dirty look from Stan.

“Well, maybe I’ll get dressed up for bed more often,” Eddie says, straightening his tie.

Richie beams at him. “Oh yeah?”

“Let’s see how this goes,” Eddie laughs. “But I’m sure we can come up with excuses.”

Richie all but bounces on the edge of the bed, pleased.

Eddie clears his throat. He tries to take on his hospital voice. As a resident, he doesn’t talk too much to patients, but he’s delivered a few post-surgery talks to the family, and he thinks the key is to take his usual lecturing and slow it down. Apparently, if he doesn’t slide into nervous word vomit, he sounds fairly authoritative on instinct.

Go figure.

“Well, Mr. Tozier, what seems to be the problem?” he asks. He’d borrowed the clipboard from Patty, who had given him a look like she’d realized what it was going to be used for right away.

“I’m so damn horny my dick’s about to fall off, doc,” Richie says.

Eddie has to screw up his nose for a moment in order to refrain from laughing. Already. “I see,” he says. “Have you been getting enough attention lately, Mr. Tozier?”

“Oh, not at all,” Richie drawls, grinning. “My Eddie has been so absorbed in his work, he’s almost entirely forgotten me.”

Eddie would feel bad for him, but Richie’s swinging his feet and giving him a smug little look, like he’s just  _ daring _ Eddie to break character and remind him that Eddie has spent all his free time lately curled up on top of Richie (snoring, but still) or sleepily acting as a sounding board for the new jokes that Richie intends to use on tour. (Occasionally  _ while _ Eddie is taking a shower.)

“Awful,” Eddie says indulgently. “We’ll have to do some tests to see how bad the situation is, but it seems like I’ll have to have a talk with your husband after this.”

The word is out of his mouth before he realizes, and there’s a moment of bewildered silence in which both of them stare at each other, still registering what’s going on. Whenever Eddie talks about patients, it’s to family. A husband or wife, not a boyfriend. He doesn’t know if this is a sore point, so he says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on--”

“In  _ that _ case,” Richie interrupts loudly, not breaking character at all. “You should be calling me Mr. Kaspbrak, Dr. K.”

Eddie blinks at him.

“It’s my  _ husband’s  _ dad’s name,” Richie says, a little softer. “And it means a lot to him.”

Eddie nearly cries, swallowing hard. “Well,” he chokes out.  _ Richie Kaspbrak Richie Kaspbrak Richie Kaspbrak! _ his brain shouts. “I will make sure to fix that in our paperwork, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

“Please do,” Richie says, pompous. “My  _ husband _ has a terrible temper.”

“I’ll be sure to apologize to him for this grave error,” Eddie says dryly. He likes the way the word husband sounds on Richie’s tongue. “Now, back to your problem.”

“My wilting, abandoned dick?” Richie asks, swinging his feet.

Eddie sighs, holding Richie’s eyes with his own. “Yes, Mr. Kaspbrak. It seems you’re a very needy boy who’s been sorely neglected.”

Richie lets out an undignified snort. “A needy boy,” he echoes.

Eddie raises a brow, keeping a straight face on sheer force of will, because he’s pretty sure if Richie likes this, he’ll  _ really _ like it. “This is no laughing matter, Mr. Kaspbrak. It can be very dangerous for a needy boy like you to go too long without a good fucking.”

Richie shivers and bites his lip a little harder, nodding. “Sorry, Dr. K.”

He sets down the clipboard and takes Richie’s head in his hands, tugging his hair gently so he can tilt Richie’s head and pretend to inspect his ears. “It’s quite normal, Mr. Kaspbrak,” he says. “I imagine you’re  _ desperate  _ for attention.”

“That’s me,” Richie says, chuckling a little under his breath while Eddie tugs his head to the other side, eyes fluttering closed as Eddie fists his hair.

“Hmm,” Eddie says. “How long has it been since you were last fucked, Mr. Kasprak?”

“Two weeks at least,” Richie says as Eddie tilts his head back and runs his thumbs over his throat like he’s checking for swelling.

“Two whole weeks,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s very serious indeed. Say ah.”

Richie does as he’s asked, and Eddie puts a thumb in his mouth and presses down on his tongue. He watches Richie’s throat work, and ghosts his thumb over Richie’s front teeth as he pulls away. He gives Richie a look as if to say,  _ cute little buck teeth.  _ The corners of Richie’s mouth quirk into the beginnings of a smile.

“Am I gonna make it, doc?” Richie asks, eyes twinkling.

“Hm,” Eddie says. “We’ll see. I’m going to try something, and I’d like you to rate your need on a scale of 1 to 10. Can you do that for me, Mr. Kaspbrak?”

Richie nods.

“Try not to exaggerate,” Eddie says. “I know it’s difficult for someone so deprived of attention as you, but we don’t want to skew the results.”

“Yessir,” Richie says.

Eddie smiles and kisses him, nice and soft, then pulls back. “How was your need for that, Mr. Kaspbrak?”

“Hmm,” Richie says, watching him closely. “Maybe… a six?”

“A six already,” Eddie murmurs. “Very worrisome. And if I do this…?”

He tilts Richie’s head back and prods his mouth open with his tongue this time, running it over the roof of his mouth and his teeth and nipping Richie’s bottom lip as he pulls back.

“Oh, definitely up to a seven,” Richie breathes.

Eddie clicks his tongue. “A seven.”

He pulls Richie’s head to the side and kisses the inside of his shoulder. “And now?”

“Eight,” Richie says. “Deeefinitely an eight.”

Eddie sucks a hickey into his shoulder. 

“Ooh, that’s a nine,” Richie manages.

Eddie draws back and looks Richie in the eyes as he reaches down to cup Richie’s dick in one gloved hand. “And if I do this?” he asks, resting his hand there. 

Richie whines and bucks up into his hand without meaning to. “Ten.”

“Ten?” Eddie says, lowering his voice. “Rating your need a ten shouldn’t be taken lightly, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

Richie whimpers, hips jerking. “But doc, I feel like I’m gonna combust.”

“Really?” Eddie says, thumbing at the head. “Does it feel like you can’t stand a second longer without being fucked?”

Richie nods desperately.

“Is it all you can think about?”

“Yeah, yeah doc, I want it,” Richie gasps. “I want it so bad.”

“Are you experiencing intense, overwhelming cravings to be spread open and fucked until you’re screaming, Mr. Kaspbrak?” Eddie asks. He still hasn’t moved his hand, but he presses two fingers to Richie’s hip to keep him still.

“Yes,” Richie moans. “Yes, yeah, all of it, everything.”

Eddie pulls away, and Richie nearly sobs. “I see. In that case, this may be even more serious than I thought. I’ll need to check your prostate, and then I’ll give your husband my diagnosis.”

“How are you so  _ good _ at this?” Richie whines. “Fuck!”

Eddie grins. “I’m a professional,” he says. “Lie back, Mr. Kaspbrak. Get comfortable.”

Richie flops down onto the bed, legs dangling awkwardly. “Fuckin’ perfect-ass boyfriend just waltzin’ in here with a full sex doctor role ready to go…” he grumbles to himself under his breath.

Eddie bites down a grin as he gets the lube and coats his fingers, standing over Richie as he lowers his fingers to Richie’s hole.

“Oh, I like that,” Richie mumbles. “You looking down at me like that in that shirt.”

Eddie laughs despite himself. “Mr. Kaspbrak,” he teases. “What would your husband think?”

“Fly into a jealous rage, I’m sure,” Richie fires back, grinning.

Eddie pushes a finger inside, and Richie rolls his hips.

“Mr. Kaspbrak,” Eddie says sharply. “I’m going to need you to stay still. If you keep moving, I’ll have to restart the procedure until I’m finished.”

“Oh,” Richie says, and yes, Eddie  _ did  _ read his offhand comments last night correctly, because his cock twitches at that. “I’ll try my darnedest, doc.”

Eddie smiles and presses another finger inside Richie. He makes sure to stretch him enough to fuck him after this, but he merely runs his fingers over his prostate, feeling it like this really is a prostate exam.

Staying still is hard for Richie. He’s energetic, especially when he’s feeling a lot. He keeps jerking under Eddie’s ministrations, and Eddie just tutts and puts a hand on his hip to remind him to keep still.

At this rate, Eddie’s going to keep gently nudging his prostate for half the night.

Richie clearly realizes that too, because he’s gasping and choking out little noises with the effort of trying to stay still, getting even more worked up. “Sorry, doc,” he manages, breathless. “I’m trying my best here.”

“It’s quite normal,” Eddie says. “It’s difficult for a needy boy like you to control himself.”

Arousal is taking Richie over, because he doesn’t laugh at “needy boy” this time, just moans, taking deep breaths and stilling his hips. Eddie presses his hand on one of them, firm. “One more time, Mr. Kaspbrak. I’m sure you can do it.”

Richie lets out a long puff of breath, nodding.

Eddie rubs circles into Richie’s prostate, holding his hips tight. He can feel Richie shaking with the effort it takes not to move, can feel him get tense under Eddie, unsure how long he has to do this.

He feels Richie’s hip twitch, incremental, under his hand, and hears Richie’s breath catch as he realizes how close he came to failing again. He takes mercy on Richie and withdraws his fingers.

Richie lets out a surprisingly forceful sigh of relief, relaxing into the sheets. He reaches up to push the hair out of his face, sweaty and quivering.

It would be easy enough to go serious from here. Richie’s worked up, pliant. He’s not being mouthy. Eddie could keep going with this role and do something really sexy with it, probably.

But it would be just as easy to make Richie laugh, and Eddie can’t help it. “In all my years as a sex doctor I’ve never seen as needy a boy,” he says. “I’m afraid you’re coming down with a case of dick fever.”

Richie laughs like it surprises him that he’s laughing, a loud, uncontrollable bark that dissolves into giggles.

Eddie grins, very proud of himself. “I’m going to have to discuss this with your husband, Mr. Kaspbrak.”

“Dick fever,” Richie wheezes, curling in on himself as he laughs. “Jesus shit, Eds.”

Eddie grins so hard it hurts his face, pulling off the gloves and discarding them before kicking off his loafers. “Want me to stay dressed?” he asks.

Richie manages to nod from where he’s crying laughing.

Eddie laughs with him as he clambers into bed and straddles him. “Well, Richie Kaspbrak, I’ve talked to the doctor,” he says, “and it seems I haven’t been taking very good care of my needy, needy boy.”

“Oh, my dear Edward, I’m comin’ down with a case of dick fever,” Richie cries in his Southern drawl. “I am positively  _ dyin’  _ of neglect.”

“Are you seriously doing the Southern gal right now?” Eddie says, a laugh bubbling out of his mouth.

“I can’t help it,” Richie cries, throwing his arms around Eddie dramatically. “I just a poor needy househusband, in  _ desperate  _ need of a good fuckin’!”

Eddie nods. Two could play at this game. He can’t do the accent as well, but he can match the drama. “The doctor told me,” he says. “He said if the dick fever takes hold, you’ll be overcome by honry madness. All you’ll be able to think about is getting dicked down real good.”

“Oh, I already feel it startin’, my dear Edward!” Richie says, hooking one leg around Eddie. “Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a good cock inside me!”

“Oh, just any old cock?” Eddie teases.

Richie stills a little, but he’s still riding the high of his playing around, and it seems that arousal and good cheer takes precedence over the worry that maybe he’s done something wrong. “Of course not, my dear Edward,” he says, and doing one of his voices seems to get him back on track. “Only my husband’s cock can satisfy  _ this  _ horribly needy boy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You’re  _ my  _ needy boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Richie breathes, pupils blown. “Oh, God, please fuck me, before the madness takes hold.”

Eddie undoes his belt slowly. “Yeah? Did you miss having me inside you that much?”

Richie whines. “Please,” he says, and he’s sliding in and out of the Southern drawl, like he can’t focus. “Fuck me.”

“You need it?” Eddie asks, discarding the belt and undoing his pants.

“Yes,” Richie breathes. “I need it so bad. Oh, I’ll  _ die _ without your dick inside me.”

“Need me to take good care of you?” Eddie murmurs, rolling on the condom.

“Yes, yes,” Richie groans. “Please, oh, I’m going crazy. I’ll  _ die, _ I’ll die!”

Eddie slicks himself up. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I haven’t had time to give my sweet, needy boy my cock. I know how much you need it.”

“Yes!” Richie moans as Eddie finally pushes inside. “Oh, it’s so good, so hot and thick… oh, I’m dying, I need it!”

Eddie grins. He doesn’t think Richie’s even really acting anymore. “Don’t you worry, doll,” he says. “I’m not going to let my needy boy down any longer.”

He takes Richie’s legs into his arms and holds tight onto his hips and fucks into him, hard.

Richie mewls, hand slamming against the headboard as Eddie picks up the pace. “Fuck!” he cries. “Oh, fuck, yeah, I missed this, fuck yeah…”

“Two weeks and you’re already aching for my cock?” Eddie asks. “How are you going to survive on tour?”

“I won’t,” Richie manages. “Oh, God, I’m gonna be frothing at the mouth, gonna be so hungry for your cock the whole time, gonna be thinking about it on stage…” He giggles, almost hysterical and chokes out,  _ “Dick fever,  _ what the hell…”

Eddie moans, too into it to bother with Richie’s giggling, thrusting into him faster until it breaks into small moans and cries. Grinding against each other and giving handjobs is all well and good, Eddie thinks, but God does it feel good to fuck Richie properly again. Richie’s keening and reaching for him, legs spread and toes curling, and fuck does he look good doing it.

Eddie drops one of his legs to reach forward and jerk Richie off, hitting his prostate hard as he does it, and Richie’s coming all over himself.

Eddie stills, letting Richie get it together a little. “How’s that dick fever, sweetheart?”

Richie giggles with what air he has left in his lungs. “Dick fever,” he chuckles. “Fuck, Eds, the second I come out I’m gonna have the weirdest show just of the hilarious gay shit you’ve said.”

“You’re gonna stand up on a stage and tell the world I diagnosed you with dick fever?” Eddie asks, snorting.

“Someday,” Richie manages, blushing. “Someday, and it’s gonna kill, because fucking  _ dick fever. _ Can you image that for real? You go to the doctor’s office and they come back and tell you, all serious, ‘sorry sir, you’ve got dick fever.’ Can you imagine?”

Eddie laughs too. “Fuck, how would you keep a straight face?”

“You wouldn’t,” Richie says, taking a few more deep breaths before patting Eddie’s thigh like he’s a horse that needs to be kicked into gear. “Now, come on, mah sweet husband!” He throws his wrist to his forehead in a dramatic swoon. “This needy boy’s still feelin’ awful hot an’ bothered!”

Eddie grins at him wolfishly. “Oh, Richie Kaspbrak, I think I can fix that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have any good ideas for what the setup to an actual dick fever joke in a stand up show would be but then again could the setup really be a good one?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how the fuck does anyone write multiple orgasms in a satisfying way
> 
> descriptions of panic attacks in this one, but nothing severe and not during sex, just giving you a heads up
> 
> (also why project onto ONE character when you can give one your anxiety and the other the adhd thing where your brain just sometimes sets itself on fire out of excitement until you run out of energy and must lay quietly facedown for a few days with your regrets)

“Stanley,” Eddie whispers.

“I already know I hate this,” Stan mutters. “What?”

“I’m freaking out.”

Stan sighs, sitting up to turn on the lamp on his nightstand. Patty groans, lifting her head to squint at Eddie.

Eddie clambers into space between them. “Richie’s flight is another three hours and I’m fucking have a panic attack. What if his plane crashes? How long does it take first responders to contact loved ones? What if we’re not home? I have work in the morning, should I stay home just in case? We’re his emergency contact, right, they’d call us? How does that work, I’ve never flown.”

“Eddie,” Stan says. “Lay down and breathe.”

Eddie does so, trying to count his breaths.

“He’ll be fine,” Patty mutters, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I feel like if I let my guard down the plane will go down for sure,” Eddie says, swallowing. It’s a catch 22. If he panics, he can’t stop imagining getting the call. If he calms down and the call comes anyway, it’s his fault somehow.

Stan sighs. “Eddie, you operate every day. Does your work get any worse if the families aren’t worrying?”

Eddie lets out a slow breath. “No.”

“Yeah,” Stan says. “So if you calm down, it’s still gonna be the same plane. Same pilot. The chances of anything bad happening are the same, and they’re very, very small.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says.

“Patty, remind me not to let Richie take any more redeyes,” Stan says, wrapping himself around Eddie so he and Patty are sandwiching him. “If I get woken up at 3 am by these two more more time…”

“Oh, shush,” Patty says sleepily. “You’re going to complain and continue to do exactly what you’ve always done.”

“You don’t have to say it.”

She mumbles incoherently, and they both doze off again.

Eddie tries to fall asleep after that, but it’s all fitful naps with awful dreams. Thank God he’d had the foresight not to take a morning shift tomorrow. He can sleep until 11.

The phone rings at 5 am, and Eddie nearly elbows Stan in the face scrambling out of his bed and into the living room to pick it up. “Hello?” he asks, heart beating. Richie’s flight ended 40 minutes ago, but if it had gone down midway then…

“Hi,” Richie says. “Thought you’d want to know that I landed okay.”

Eddie has to sit down on the floor with relief. “Yeah.”

“Would’ve called earlier, we landed early,” Richie says, “but I figured I’d call from the hotel, just in case you were so keyed up you’d end up thinking about whether or not I’d get kidnapped by a taxi driver to have my organs harvested.”

“Well  _ now _ I’m think about that,” Eddie says, swallowing down panic and tears. This is stupid, he tells himself. Fucking dumb as hell. None of these things are worries worth having. “Did you bolt the hotel room door? Is there a chain? Fuck, maybe you can do something to set up some kind of warning system.”

“Eds,” Richie says, stifling a laugh. “Breathe.”

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, okay,” he mutters. “Jeez, I sound like my mom.”

“No you don’t,” Richie says. “You just have anxiety. It’s fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie mutters. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Ay-ay cap’n,” Richie says, then laughs, obnoxious. “Get some sleep, alright? I’m a hundred percent fine. Gonna pass out until it’s time to set up for the show. We sold out last night.”

“Hell, Richie, that’s amazing,” Eddie says. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Hell yeah,” Richie says. He sounds sleepy. “You’re gonna be watching, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Stan’s been grumbling but I know he can’t wait.”

“You’re gonna have to chase him out of bed before it starts with a broom, you know that right?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah.”

“Good luck,” Richie says. “Call me after your shift ends, I’m gonna be freaking out.”

“I will.”

“G’night. Love you.”

“Goodnight,” Eddie murmurs. “Love you too.”

He hangs up.

“Is he dead yet?” Stan calls.

“No, he’s safe and sound in LA,” Eddie yells back.

“Oh, good.”

Eddie grins, shaking his head and collapsing into bed.

**

He’s had better shifts. He has to down a cup of coffee between nearly every surgery and he’s so exhausted he actually sits down on the subway and nearly sleeps through his stop. He takes a shower, then calls Richie. “Hey, I’m home,” he says. “I might take a nap before your show but I wanted to check in first.”

“Cool,” Richie says, strangled. “I thought about just bolting. Like, just escaping into the sea or something. Like, there’s gotta be some islands near Cali, right? I can swim there.”

“Mhmm,” Eddie murmurs. “Yeah, give it a try. Send me a little message in a bottle.”

“Fuck off, man, I’m gonna puke on stage.”

“No you’re not,” Eddie says, even though he puts the chances of Richie puking on stage at about 60%. “You’re gonna get up there and you’re gonna do what you always do.”

“Start talking?” Richie manages.

“I was gonna say annoy everyone so much it wraps back around into being charming,” Eddie says.

“Yeah, but that’s the thing,” Richie says. “What if I’m  _ just _ annoying? And you guys all got used to it?”

Eddie snorts loudly. “Rich,” he says. When Richie had started out of the gate, Eddie had assumed it had been mostly the gay thing that had prompted him to do other people’s jokes. But apparently it wasn’t just that. “You’re really fucking funny. People come to your shows. They wanted you on tour.”

“Fuck,” Richie says. “Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.”

“You’ve wanted to do this forever,” Eddie says. “Of course you can.”

“Yeah, but I figured someone else’d be writing the material,” Richie says. “And I’d just be the pretty face.”

Eddie laughs. “No you didn’t. You just got nervous and tried to hide behind someone else’s jokes. But you’ve always been thinking of your own bits. Since I’ve known you.”

“I mean,” Richie says, “let’s not pretend the long-running streak of ‘fucked your mom’ jokes were good.”

“No, they were terrible,” Eddie says. “And you overused it, because you’re a hyper little jackass who needs to talk all the time. But you have more than just that joke. And you’ve planned out your material this time, with all best jokes, and you’re gonna be  _ great.” _

“Okay, well, don’t appreciate being called a jackass,” Richie replies. “But okay. I feel better.”

“Can I take a nap now? Wanna be awake for your whole show so I can heckle you after.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Richie says.

“Don’t call me Eds.”

“Love you too.”

Eddie snorts, hanging up so he can set an alarm and sleep a little before they all get together to watch the show.

**

Eddie finds himself crammed between Bev and Patty, because Bill is also couch sized but he’d decided to sit on the floor with Mike’s arm slung over the cushions behind him, putting Stan on the couch instead. Eddie glares at the back of his head, trying to communicate that it’s rude to throw off everyone else’s sitting positions to get cozy with someone you  _ insist _ you aren’t dating, but to no avail.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” Bev yells, drumming on Ben’s head in front of her. “It’s starting.”

_ Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome… Richie Tozier! _

They all cheer, even Stan and Ben. Bev puts her hands to her mouth and screams, elbowing Eddie excitedly. “He’s on TV! Look at him!” she yells.

“Sssh, sssh,” Stan says, whacking Eddie like Eddie has any control over what Bev does. “I wanna hear him!”

“Hello!” Richie says, waving at the crowd. He’s dressed in an awful assortment of clothes: purple jeans and a Hawaiian shirt jam packed with so many greens, pinks and purples, it’s nausea inducing, thrown over a shirt with a pacman logo. 

“Now I know you’re all expecting me to start this show off with some really relatable observation - because as we all know, observational humor is always solid - but I grew up in a small down in Maine and I honestly don’t know how people from real places live,” Richie says. He takes the microphone off the stand so he can move as he talks.

“He’s so fucking nervous,” Eddie whispers.

“I know,” Bev whispers back.

“Sssh, he’s doing fine,” Stan says. “Don’t jinx it.”

“You know how weird small towns in Maine get?” Richie says. “One summer, my friends and I were trying to figure out what we’re gonna do with all our free time. You know, go to the arcade, get ice cream, go swimming… But then my friend Bill goes, ‘Yeah, okay, but what if instead we climbed into the sewers to hunt a clown?’”Bill snorts loudly, “and we all went, ‘Yeah, sure, that sounds as good an idea as any.’ And that was the  _ better  _ half of our summer.”

The crowd laughs, though it’s confused for now. Eddie grins. “No one on this planet was ready for Richie to get popular,” Stan says, laughing. “He’s been let loose.”

“They’re not gonna know what to do with him,” Ben says.

“Love him, of course,” Eddie says. “They’re gonna fucking love him.”

**

Richie calls three times every day. He seems frazzled, vibrating with excitement and nerves, and Eddie guesses he’s going to crash the second he lets himself relax. “You sure about the whole not jacking off thing?” Eddie asks him a week in. “I didn’t expect this all to be so much.”

“I’m good,” Richie says. “I’ve just been, like, doing jumping jacks. I feel like I’ve stuck my entire face into a light socket.”

“Wow, really encouraging,” Eddie laughs. “Jack off if you want.”

“Nono,” Richie insists. “I cannot tell you how amped I am to know that the second I get home you’re gonna fuck my brains out.”

“Mhmm,” Eddie says. “Well okay. But take care of yourself, okay?”

“Yeah yeah,” Richie says. “Yep. I’m gonna see if this hotel room has a documentary channel, I’m gonna try to calm down with a wildlife documentary. Fuck! Did you see how hard they laughed?”

“I did,” Eddie says, not for the first time. “You’re gonna sleep for three days after you get home, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you and Stan are gonna starve to death. Is Patty feeding you?”

“Nope, she hates cooking. We’ve just been ordering takeout.”

“I’m gonna bake an entire fucking gross of cupcakes when I get home,” Richie says. “A hundred forty-four cupcakes. Gonna stock the entire fucking apartment full of cupcakes, we’ll be eating them for a week.”

“Maybe put some thought into that one,” Eddie says.

“No thinking, only jazz!” Richie yells.

“What?”

“I don’t know but I’m fucking gonna die,” Richie says. “Okay, I’m laying down. Is this a panic attack? Like, can you have a panic attack out of good feelings?”

“Deep breaths,” Eddie says. “Okay? In. Out. In. Out.”

Richie breathes with him loudly. 

“Feel better?”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Wowee, Eds, I’m famous.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says.

“I miss you. I wanna snuggle.”

“Me too,” Eddie says. “It’s so hard to sleep without you in the bed.”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Yeah, I’ve been passing out every night from being on stage all day, but fuck. It sucks waking up alone.”

“Another week,” Eddie says. “And you’re doing so fucking great.”

“Hell yeah I am!” Richie yells. “Ooh, there’s a documentary on shrimp. That’s gotta be lowkey enough.”

“Let’s hope,” Eddie says. “You’re gonna fucking explode soon.”

“Okay, I’m gonna go and do some more jumping jacks. Iloveyoubye.”

“Love you too,” Eddie manages, before Richie hangs up.

**

The next day, Eddie goes to a sex shop and buys a cockring, because he can already tell Richie’s going to need several rounds of fucking when he gets home.

**

When Richie gets home, he gets a hug from Stan and Patty.

“Did you guys cook at all?” Richie asks.

“No. And Patty said she’d leave me before making me homemade croutons when the store bought ones are just as cheap,” Stan says.

“I don’t love you like Richie does,” Patty says.

Richie grins, then looks at Eddie with puppy dog eyes.

Eddie just gives him a small peck on the lips and orders him into the shower. Richie grins and salutes him, scampering to the bathroom.

“You’re gonna want to put on some music,” Eddie informs Stan. “For a  _ while.” _

“I guessed as much,” Stan says. “Hope you like fucking to Rick Astley.”

“Joke’s on you,” Eddie replies. “We do.”

Richie runs across the living room in his boxers to skid into their bedroom at full speed, and Stan sighs as something crashes and shatters. “You two are genuinely a nightmare.”

“He’s only in it for the homemade croutons,” Patty offers from the kitchen counter.

“Fair warning,” Eddie says, “tomorrow you may have to forcibly stop Richie from baking a  _ lot _ of cupcakes.”

“Naturally,” Patty says.

Eddie clears his throat and tries to be casual about joining Richie in the bedroom.

“I’m literally about to die,” Richie blurts immediately. “I’m so fucking horny.”

“Alright, hold your horses,” Eddie laughs, sitting down on the bed beside him to brush his damp hair aside and kiss him. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Richie says, immediately placated. At least in comparison to what he had been before.

“So,” Eddie says. “You’re up for no hands?”

Richie nods feverishly. “So up for it. Hell, I’m above it. Wait, no, that’s…”

Eddie hears  _ Never Gonna Give You Up  _ echoing distantly from the other room. “I know what you mean.”

“Please, Eddie, c’mon,” Richie whines. “I wanna do it.”

“One second,” Eddie says. “I have a thought about the jealousy thing. You up for that too? You’re a  _ little _ bit jittery.”

“What kind of thought?” Richie asks. “Like, maybe I cheated on you while I was away because no fuckin’ way.”

“God, no,” Eddie says. “No, not even as a roleplay. I just thought… well. A lot of people were looking at you these past two weeks, huh?”

“A  _ whole _ lot,” Richie blurts. “Holy shit, Eddie, holy shit!”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, softly. “And I wanna do something with that. If you’re okay to do something like that right now.”

“I think so,” Richie mumbles.

“Remember your safeword?”

Richie nods. “But Eds, to be fair, I don’t think any of them were undressing me with their eyes.”

“Only to dress you in better clothes,” Eddie teases. “But no. That’s not it. I’ll show you, but only if you feel okay to try something new.”

“Okay,” Richie says, looking him up and down, slightly wary.

Eddie just smiles and reaches over to tug his boxers down, just slowly enough to make Richie squirm. “They all loved you,” Eddie says softly. “And they should. You were hilarious up there. Not to mention charming.”

“Hell yeah,” Richie says, albeit quietly. Eddie smiles and rubs his belly a little before reaching for the gloves and lube. 

“I’d never ask anyone to love you less,” Eddie says. “But you know I find you funniest, right?”

Richie makes a strangled noise at that. “Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says, warming the lube on his fingers. “I’ve found you hilarious since kindergarten.”

“Kindergarten is not really a word you wanna hear while someone’s shoving their fingers up your ass but okay,” Richie says weakly.

Eddie snorts as he pushes his middle finger in to the second knuckle. “See? Funny. I find you very, very funny. Even funnier than any of the people in the crowd, because I’ve been watching you craft all your jokes and I’ve heard all the sweet, dumb jokes that didn’t make the cut.”

Richie’s jaw has dropped at some point. Maybe Eddie should compliment him more.

“Isn’t that right?” Eddie says. “Tell me you know how funny I find you.”

“You find me really, really funny,” Richie says, like he’s waiting for a treat for his trick, and Eddie rewards him by pressing in another finger.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “And I love you more than them too, right?”

That makes Richie’s eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs. “I hope the whole world learns to love you. You deserve it. But I’m always gonna love you even more.”

Richie beams at him. “Boy, you’re gonna have to love me a lot to keep up with all those people, Eds.”

“I do,” Eddie says. “And then some.”

Richie’s beaming quiets a little, but the sunshine radiating from it doesn’t dim. “Wow. That’s a lot.” Eddie grins and strokes his prostate. Richie groans. “Oh,  _ man, _ that feels good.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “You can soak up all that attention and love, but you come home to me, because I know how to take care of you.” Richie’s breath hitches, pleased, but to Eddie it sounds a little too much like his mother, so he adds, “Because I love you and I learn all the things you want and need, right?”

Richie smiles softly and brushes his fingers up Eddie’s arm. “Yeah. Yeah, Eds, you know me inside and out.” He rolls his hips playfully. “Literally.”

Eddie returns the smile, scissoring his fingers and watching as Richie’s head falls back with a groan. “Missed you,” he says softly.

“Missed you too,” Richie says, swallowing hard. “Fuck, man, I missed your  _ smell.” _

“Next time I guess you’ll have to take my clothes,” Eddie says.

“Tempting,” Richie says, gasping as Eddie stretches him, hitting his prostate a few times for good measure.

Eddie laughs, pulling back to take off the glove and his clothes. “Then you could come back after every show, wrap yourself in my scent and remember who you belong to.”

“Your scent,” Richie laughs. “What are you, a cat?”

“Meow,” Eddie chuckles, stroking himself a few times to get himself to full hardness so he can slide on the cockring and then a condom.

Richie giggles, then moans as Eddie presses inside. “Oh,  _ yeah.” _

“That’s it,” Eddie says. “You needed this, didn’t you?”

“Oh, God, so bad,” Richie whines.

“The whole world was watching you and loving you,” Eddie says. “But you’re  _ mine, _ aren’t you? You need to come home to me, show you how much I love you, have me take good care of you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie whines. “Fuck. Fuck, yeah, I need you. I need you so bad, you take such good care of me.”

Eddie smiles. Richie can babble during sex, he just needs to be told what to say.

“And why do I take such good care of you?” Eddie asks, rolling his hips.

“Because you love me and think I’m funny,” Richie manages. “And sweet and good and other stuff.”

Eddie can’t help giggling at that. “Yeah, especially the other stuff.”

Richie manages a breathless smile, but he’s already collapsing into moans at the pace Eddie sets right off the bat. “Ooh, fuck, fuck, that’s good, that’s…”

Eddie picks up his legs and slings them over his shoulders, shifting his angle until Richie cries out. “Good?” he asks. “How’s that angle?”

“Oh, fuck, so good, so fucking good, fuck fuck, Eddie,” he whines, grasping at Eddie’s shoulder. “Oh, fuck, I missed you, I thought about this all the time, even on stage…”

“Yeah?” Eddie says, electricity jolting through him. “Stood up there in front of all those people, laughing and adoring you, and thought about my cock inside you?”

Richie nods feverishly. “Eddie, God, Eddie, fuck me…!”

“Fuck,” Eddie whispers. “That’s fucking hot.”

Richie moans, small noises burbling out of his lips.

“Tell me you’re mine,” Eddie says. “All mine. I’ll share, because you deserve the whole damn world, but you’re  _ mine.” _

“Yes!” Richie cries. “God, I’m yours, all yours, I’m so fucking gone for you Eddie, you have no idea…”

“I can hazard a guess,” Eddie laughs, fucking him harder and nailing all the right spots so that Richie sobs and clings to him for dear life. “I’m pretty gone on you myself.”

“Tell me I was good,” Richie pleads, sobbing. “Tell me I was really good up there?”

Eddie’s heart softens even as he thrusts into Richie with all the force he can muster. “You were fucking  _ amazing. _ We all sat here and watched you and we all cheered for you. And we all laughed, even Stan. Stan laughed his ass off, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

Richie lets out a desperate chuckle, tears in his eyes. “God, keep… keep telling me how much you love me.”

“Fuck I love you,” Eddie says. “You’re mine, and I love you so much. Love your weird-ass shirts and your crazy fuckin’ hair and your glasses and your eyes…”

Richie whimpers, nodding in a silent plea for Eddie to keep going.

“Oh, fuck, Rich, I looked at you up there and thought,  _ that’s my boy _ and every time they fucking laughed and cheered for you I was so fucking proud. I was so happy. I kept thinking God, yeah, right? That’s my boy, my love, my baby. That’s  _ mine _ and he’s so good! And so  _ funny.” _

He takes Richie’s hand and squeezes hard, lacing their fingers together, and lets himself ramble. Lets himself say anything he can think of that he likes about Richie. He doesn’t want to know how many times he says the word funny or how many times he mentions that Richie has a hell of a lot of leg, maybe because he’s holding them, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s pretty sure Richie won’t remember anything but a steady stream of pleasure and slightly possessive praise. 

Richie fumbles at him, whining, and Eddie shifts his angle just a little to drag a helpless noise out of Richie. “Oh, fuck, fuck, there!” Richie shouts. “Yeah, God, Eddie’s, your dick is fucking magic, keep…!”

Eddie grins and speeds up, and Richie’s back bows, hands grasping wildly at Eddie’s neck and hair as he comes, mewling and crying.

Eddie stills, setting Richie’s feet down and letting him breathe. Or whatever counts as breathing when Richie looks utterly wrecked with his hair pressed for his sweaty forehead and tears streaming down his face.

“I wanna go twenty more rounds,” Richie chokes out.

“Okay, well, no,” Eddie says, laughing. “I’ll go up to five.”

“Mmm,” Richie says. “Okay, I’ll deal.”

Eddie snorts. “Dumbfuck,” he teases. He leans his weight onto Richie’s legs, pushing his knees nearly to his ears. “Ready to go?”

Richie sniffles and nods. “God, yeah, fuck me until I can’t walk, I’m not doing jack shit for the next few days.”

Eddie laughs. “Okay, sounds good.”

He doesn’t talk as much this round, but that doesn’t seem to put a damper on Richie’s enjoyment, because he whines and groans and claws at Eddie’s shoulders until he’s grasping at his hair for purchase and letting out noises like Eddie’s dragging the moans right out his throat with an iron fist.

His eyes roll back and Eddie keeps fucking him until he lets out a high pitched noise and comes, gasping for air until he collapses back into the sheets. “What the fuck,” he croaks. “How are you still hard?”

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie says. “I’m wearing a cock ring.”

Richie blinks at him, like he’s trying to dredge the pieces of his brain out of a thick fog. “You’re what?”

“I’m wearing a cock ring,” Eddie repeats. 

“What the  _ fuck,” _ Richie manages, swallowing repeatedly.

Eddie laughs. “I knew you’d want to keep going, so…”

“How fucking hard are you right now?” Richie asks.

“Very,” Eddie says. “Like, seriously, my dick is rock solid. You could break a screwdriver on that thing right now.”

Richie lets out a helpless giggle. “Eddie,” he says. “You’d do that for me?”

“What’re you talking about?” Eddie asks. “Yeah, I’d put off coming to have you fall apart on my dick. You have any idea how you look?”

“Would you share that with the world?” Richie asks winking.

“Never,” Eddie says, more forcefully that he really means to. “This part is all for me.”

“I agree,” Richie laughs. “I’m all yours, ‘specially when I’m fucked out of my mind.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Another round?”

“Yeah, sure, before your rock dick falls off,” Richie replies, laughing as Eddie drives into him, forcing him to moan instead.

Eddie manages one more round before he’s too desperate to come, but by the third orgasm, Richie’s head is lolling, knees digging into Eddie’s sides. Eddie keeps rolling his hips and Richie jerks at Eddie’s every movement like he’s being electrocuted.

Eddie snorts. “I think you’re kind of done,” he says.

“Ye-HA! Yeah,” Richie sobs, wiping at his eyes. “I’m… um… I was… Hnnn…” He manages.

“You okay for me to come inside you?” Eddie asks, rolling his hips slowly without angling for Richie’s prostate.

Richie yelps, pushing at him desperate. “Nope, no, I’m… no. I think I can taste colors.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, pulling out. Richie keens at that too, then flops back like a dead fish.

He reaches for the tissues, but Richie shakes his head, flapping his hands at Eddie while he gulps down air. “Wait,” he chokes out. “Wait a… wait a sec…”

Eddie sits back on his heels, taking the cock ring off. “Don’t make me wait too long,” he says, softly. “I’m finally getting a look into that dick pain you keep talking about and I don’t think it’s for me.”

“On me,” Richie slurs. “Come… if it’s okay, come on… on me?”

Eddie cocks his head. “Like, on your chest?”

“Wherever,” Richie says. “I… since you said you’d swallow, I thought about, like, you coming inside me. Dripping out.”

Eddie wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t care for putting his dick in someone’s ass without a condom. 

“That’s not for you,” Richie mumbles. “So um… this… this works?”

Eddie hums, stripping off the condom. “Sure, okay.” He pauses. “How’s it sound on your face?”

“Yeah,” Richie says, nodding and wiping away the usual overwhelmed tears. “Go f’rit.”

Eddie leans over him, pulling away the pillow under his head, and jerks himself off.

It doesn’t take a lot. He’s been on the edge for a fucking  _ while. _

He comes, gripping the headboard so he doesn’t just keel right over from the force of his orgasm. Cum drips onto Richie’s face, and once the stars in Eddie’s vision have cleared, it’s unbelievably gross. But Richie also lets out a helpless, “Nnnn!” and jerks like he’s feeling an aftershock of his earlier orgasms, and  _ that _ is hot.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I really really need to personally wash your hair now.”

Richie laughs, and then bursts into tears. “Oh, fuck, oh fuck, I’m… everything is really a lot, huh?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Yeah, it’s a lot. C’mon, I’ve got you.” He puts an arm around Richie and gets him up on his feet. He’s shaking too and Richie’s bowlegged and quivering, and it takes them a bit of effort to make it to the bathroom.

Stan’s currently playing  _ Africa _ at full blast, and Richie giggles at that, through the tears.

“One foot after the other,” Eddie says softly. “Almost there.”

“I’m going to have to sleep in the bathtub,” Richie mumbles, but Eddie steers him into the bathroom nonetheless, getting into the tub with him.

He turns on the water, gently sitting Richie down and wiping his face clean of tears and cum. Richie stares up at him like he’s the second coming. “What?” Eddie jabs, smiling softly.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Richie slurs. “How’d I manage to snag you?”

“Oh, you dumb bastard,” Eddie says, kneeling before him. “I meant everything I said about you today, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Except say it again because you know how my brain falls over on its side after sex like a… like a thing that can’t get back up again.”

“A Volkswagen,” Eddie says, nodding sagely.

Richie giggles. “Sure.”

“You mean everything to me,” Eddie says, running his fingers through Richie’s long hair to make sure it’s clean. “And I  _ love  _ you. And I want everyone else to love you too.”

He grabs the shampoo and squeezes some into his hand, raking his fingers through Richie’s hair. He plays with it half to be thorough, half just to touch and tug at Richie’s curls. Richie sets his chin against Eddie’s chest, staring up at him with glimmering, warm eyes. “Wowza,” he says. “That’s really something.”

“Dork,” Eddie replies, kissing the top of his forehead and continuing his work.

“Oh, man, I was kidding about sleeping here before, but I don’t think I can get back up,” Richie mumbles.

“I’ll get you there,” Eddie promises.

He does end up having to carry Richie in a fireman’s carry and nearly smacks his head into the door frame, but he eventually gets Richie back to bed.

**

Richie wakes up at noon, feeling vaguely like he’s been hit by a bus. Apparently being high energy for two weeks is not agreeing with his head, because it aches like a bitch.

He groans, trying to gather his thoughts as he blinks at the far-too-bright room.

There’s a glass of apple juice and a store bought cupcake on the nightstand with a note saying, “Do NOT start baking cupcakes. Love you. <3 <3 <3”

Richie grins, kissing the note in sheer joy.

He’s absolutely going to bake some cupcakes as soon as he can drag himself out of bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ain when you say stan was playing never gonna give you up, does that mean you were writing this fic to that song, you ask?
> 
> to which i reply, yes. of course i did
> 
> (i realize this taking place in 2000 means rickrolling was not a thing yet. suffice it to say whenever it becomes a thing, richie, eddie AND stan (and also bev) will be delighted and will start slinging rick astley at each other nonstop. none of the losers can open links from each other ever again)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably the most overly contemplative blowjob fic ever written but on god this is what goes through my brain when i suck dick

“Hey, do you ever wish I was a girl?” Richie asks, while Eddie is brushing his hair, sitting beside him and piling it over his head just to be a dick and watch the long curls flutter as Richie laughs.

“Excuse me?” Eddie replies, combing Richie’s hair out of his face so Richie can grin at him like he knows he’s in trouble.

“I’m just saying,” Richie says. “One of the only things I’ve ever heard you say you like about girls is that you like that they have nice hair.”

“And?” Eddie asks.

“And,” Richie says, like he’s noticing in real time that he doesn’t make any sense, “you like that my hair is long.”

“I swear to God, if the reason you grew out your hair is because you think I’d prefer a woman, I’ll shave you right here and now,” Eddie snaps.

“Nooo!” Richie whines, covering his hair with his hands like he really believes it. “I just like that you like it and I like how you brush my hair and I think it makes me look better too and also I like how you grab it during sex.”

“I like those things too,” Eddie says, narrowing his eyes. “You have beautiful hair.”

Richie slowly lowers his hands, pushing hair out of his face. “But, like,” he says, eyes flickering up and down Eddie. “You’re not… like,  _ not _ into women.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says. “Wow. What every woman wants to hear. I’m not  _ not _ into you.”

“You could be bi,” Richie offers. “Like Patty.”

“Look,” Eddie says. “I’d probably touch a boob if the opportunity presented itself. So I cannot say with complete and utter conviction that I’m not bi. But I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were bi,” Richie says.

“I’m not bi.”

“You could probably throw a rock at bi if you tried.”

“What is this?” Eddie sighs, pushing Richie’s hair behind his ear. “What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know,” Richie says, pouting. “My mom wanted a girl. And sometimes I wonder, like, a little if maybe you’d be okay with me being a girl. Our lives would be easier. Sex’d be easier.”

“Do you just want to be fucked without needing to be prepped?” Eddie snorts.

Richie pauses. “I mean, yeah, sort of.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Rich.”

“I don’t know,” Richie whines. “I guess I just feel like a hassle sometimes.”

“You are a hassle,” Eddie says. “Being a girl wouldn’t change that.”

Richie laughs weakly. “Fuck you, then.”

Eddie groans, sliding down to press his nose to Richie’s. “I like that you’re a hassle. And I like that you’re a man.”

“Do you like my dick?” Richie asks, grinning wide.

“Is that what you need to hear for me to convince you that I like you the way you are?” Eddie asks, rolling his eyes before kissing Richie’s nose to remind him that he doesn’t mean it.

“I guess I just get, like, a buildup of feelings,” Richie says. “Like, I feel just a little bit too much or not enough about a bunch of things. I feel like I’m behind, but, like, on everything, and I don’t know what I’ve done wrong and nothing’s, like, actually  _ bad,  _ it’s just a feeling that sits there in my chest and… like…”

Eddie weaves his fingers into Richie’s hair and draws him closer. “I like your dick.”

Richie laughs, and Eddie smiles, feeling very accomplished. “I guess that helps,” he says. “But I don’t know, maybe you’re just being nice…”

Eddie grins. “Maybe it’s time to show you that dick a little love? Hm?”

Richie freezes. “Oh. You mean… um…”

He’s blushing. Eddie loves it. “Yes, Richie, I mean ‘um.’”

“You are so mean to me,” Richie mumbles, pouting theatrically.

“And I’m gonna suck your dick,” Eddie says, shoving him onto his back and straddling him. “So I think you’re breaking even.”

“Okay, okay, wait,” Richie breathes. “Okay, so I’ve… like… been thinking about this.”

“Mhmm?” Eddie murmurs, going still and letting Richie chew his lip nervously.

“Um… like you know in movies where… where like…” Richie mumbles, slowly, trying to sound it out, and Eddie tries so hard not to laugh at him teasingly, but half a smile breaks its way onto Eddie’s face and half a giggle rises in Richie’s throat as a response and Eddie wants to badly to lean into it. But he also wants Richie to finish his thought, so he schools his face and weaves his fingers through Richie’s hands so he can press them into the bed and lean over Richie with rapt attention. “Like, where… um…”

Eddie can’t help it. He laughs. “Do you want to act it out? We can play charades?”

Richie blushes even harder, but he pulls his hands away to play along. “You know, like…” He makes a confusing gesture of rolling his fingers into a ball and then smacking one hand with the other.

“You want me to hit you?” Eddie asks, laughing in confusion and possibly horror.

“No,” Richie moans, like he’d really expected Eddie to get his weird gestures. “No, just… you know…”

“I really don’t,” Eddie says. “Did Timmy fall down a well?”

“Shut up,” Richie mumbles, laughing despite himself. “Don’t Lassie me.”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie laughs, trying to control himself. “Go on, take your time.”

“I um… you know when… like, they shove… um… shove each other up against a wall?” Richie asks, beet red.

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says indulgently.

“That,” Richie manages.

Eddie stares at him, a giggle breaking loose from his chest.  _ “What _ are you talking about?”

“Canyousuckmydickagainstawall,” Richie blurts.

Eddie can’t stop laughing. “You want to stand?”

Richie nods, looking very small. “Please?”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie says. “I’m… This is the limit for you? I’ve literally fucked you into oblivion but you can’t ask me to push you against a wall?”

“Stoooop!” Richie cries, covering his face. “It’s, like, really hot, okay?”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “You know you can just  _ say _ these things, right?”

“It’s hard!”

Eddie snorts, slipping off of Richie and the bed. “C’mon, Lassie.”

“Wow, okay, so you’re assuring me that you don’t want me to be a girl by calling me a girl dog,” Richie huffs, trying to regain some dignity. “Guess you’re bi for  _ bi- _ stiality, huh?”

“Every time I think you can’t say anything grosser than the things you’ve already said to me, you somehow manage,” Eddie sighs, wrapping his arms around Richie and lifting him for the final step he takes to the wall so Richie’s feet are off the ground as his back hits it.

All his breath leaves him at once and his lips part, eyes wide as he stares down at Eddie.

“Ooh, you like that, huh?” Eddie teases.

“Mmmmhmmm,” Richie mumbles, hands coasting over Eddie’s shoulders. “Yeah.”

“I think I want a thing too,” Eddie says. “But you’re not allowed to laugh.”

“I won’t,” Richie promises.

“Can you slide down?” Eddie asks. “Bend your knees and I’ll help you stay standing. So I’m taller.”

Richie laughs.

“I’m leaving you,” Eddie says, making a show of turning to go.

“Nono!” Richie giggles, grabbing onto him and tugging him back. He slides down, awkwardly stretching out his legs to support himself against the wall. “Look, look, I’m short, see? Please love me again.”

“Okay,” Eddie says, tightening his arm around Richie’s waist. “I guess I like you alright if you’re short.”

Richie beams at him. “Woo! I win.”

Eddie laughs, tilting Richie’s chin up with his free hand to kiss him harder, then weaving his hand into Richie’s long hair. “I think  _ I _ win.”

“Yes, Mr. Tall,” Richie says, taking on a wanton tone. “So tall. Wow, I’m sooooo into how  _ tall _ you are, my big, tall man.”

“Stop,” Eddie warns, kissing him.

Richie laughs against his lips, moaning when Eddie kisses him harder, pulling his hair. His fingers ghost over Eddie’s shoulders, behind his neck, like he’s not sure where he wants to touch first. Eddie loves how quickly his hands move, caught up in a wild desire to touch all of him at once.

He presses his body up against Richie’s, shoving him back against the wall with a small thud, just enough to knock the air out of Richie without the risk of possibly hurting him, and Richie’s fingers curl against the side of his neck, a whimper crawling up his throat.

Eddie pulls away, and Richie’s mouth follows his, a desperate pant dropping from his red lips.

Eddie tugs at his boxers, trying to get them down Richie’s thighs. Richie snorts, trying to help by lifting one leg, putting his weight into Eddie’s arms. Eddie squeezes him tighter as Richie tries to wriggle out of the boxers, but his legs are spread too far.

“Wait,” Richie says, laughing as he scoots back up the wall so he can stand properly. “Oh, my, you’ve gotten short again.”

Eddie uses the way his arms are wrapped around Richie to pinch his sides, drawing a small shriek out of him as he tries and fails to jerk away. “No!” he shouts, pulling back, but Eddie just giggles and holds him tighter, tickling harder and nearly getting hit in the face by a flailing elbow. “Eddie!”

Eddie snorts and lifts Richie off the ground and squeezing him tight enough to make Richie wheeze before putting him down and letting Richie kick the boxers - now around his ankle - to the ground.

“Behave,” Eddie scolds, mostly for Richie’s benefit, as he slides down to his knees, coasting his hands down Richie’s sides as he goes.

Richie’s jaw drops, kiss red lips twitching with the softest gasp. “Oh, shit,” he says. “Is this how stripper poles feel?

Eddie sighs. “For a moment there, you were really sexy,” he says. “And then you just kept talking.”

“Um, I think you find my jokes very hot,” Richie says. “You’ve  _ said _ so.”

“Have I?” Eddie teases, grabbing Richie’s thighs and parting them so Richie’s hips are at the same height as Eddie’s face.

Richie wheezes his way through a laugh and swirls his hips so his dick flops around a little. “Suuuure, Eds. Got anything nice to say to this dick?”

“You are making it so hard to be attracted to you,” Eddie says, trying to hide a smile.

“Mmm, again, I think you like this,” Richie says, grinning.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Alright, fine,” he says. “You were feeling insecure earlier, so I will admit the  _ extremely  _ obvious fact that I like your entire dorky-ass personality.”

Richie smiles at him like he hung the moon, and Eddie’s heart threatens to burst. “And my dick?” Richie asks, waggling his hips so his dick does the same.

Eddie sighs and gives the tip a soft little kiss, which shuts Richie right up.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh boy.”

Eddie snorts, letting it ghost over Richie’s dick.

Richie’s head falls back against the wall with a soft little noise. “Oh, God, I’m so fucked.”

Eddie smirks at that, kissing the tip again. It smells weird, and Eddie thinks it’ll taste weird too, but he reaches around Richie’s thighs and wraps his hands around so his fingers dig into the stretch marks running up them from Richie’s numerous growth spurts and flattens his tongue against the shaft.

Richie moans.

Eddie presses his fingers into his thighs harder, and his breath catches.

Eddie can’t really look up at his face and slip the tip into his mouth at once, so instead he closes his eyes and takes as much into his mouth as he can without gagging.

It doesn’t taste good.

It tastes sort of tangy, in a weird, gummy way.

But Richie lets out a strangled little noise and scrabbles at the wall, so Eddie runs his tongue along the underside of his cock so he can curl it up into the head. Richie’s hips jolt before he catches himself, proving that Eddie can probably take a lot more into his mouth if he wanted to, but then he won’t be able to get his tongue to the tip where Richie likes it.

He’d always assumed that sucking dick was a lot like fucking, in which the goal was generally to get your whole dick in there and thrust. But now that he was here, he didn’t think it was going to be much good if he simply jerked his mouth up and down Richie’s dick. Instead, he focuses on sealing his lips around the shaft he can get to and swirling his tongue around the head.

He brings one hand up to wrap it around the part of Richie’s dick he can’t get in his mouth comfortably, and carefully bobs his head along with the motion of his tongue.

“Oh!” Richie cries, and after a little more of that his legs are shaking. 

Eddie curls his fingers into his thigh, thumbing at the crease of his groin, and Richie lets out a sharp little moan, hips jolting again like he’s trying not to.

Eddie pulls back, lapping at Richie’s dick so he doesn’t get drool everywhere as he does. “It’s fine. I’ve got some leeway, I won’t puke on your dick.”

Richie manages a breathy laugh, his hand settling on the top of Eddie’s head. “Can I…?” he asks softly.

Eddie nods, and Richie rests his hands on his head, letting Eddie’s hair slide through his fingers but not gripping. Eddie takes him back into his mouth, and Richie gasps, listing forward.

He leans onto Eddie’s head, curling in on himself as Eddie starts rolling his tongue around Richie’s dick, nice and slow. His hips thrust in small, tight little jolts, still so polite as Richie mewls and gasps.

Eddie tries to suck and move his tongue at once, and that’s a lot harder than he’d thought, but Richie doesn’t seem to care, because his hips start moving faster, the whines falling from his lips growing higher and more frequent.

Eddie puts his hand back on his thigh, taking Richie’s dick deeper into his mouth so he doesn’t come right on Eddie’s tongue.

Richie moans like he’s seen the light, legs nearly sliding out from under him as he comes, slumped back against the wall.

Eddie swallows, licking at Richie’s dick until he whines and his limp dick slides out of Eddie’s mouth.

Come tastes gross, Eddie decides. It’s bitter and sticky in the back of his throat. “Blegh,” he says, and Richie giggles. “Are you gonna feel bad if I  _ immediately _ run to brush my teeth?”

“You mean my jizz doesn’t taste like the nectar of the gods?” Richie teases, breathing hard.

“No, it does not,” Eddie says, licking at the roof of his mouth and shuddering when he gets another wave of aftertaste. “Ugh. Gross.”

“You really swallowed?” Richie whispers, sliding down the wall to sit in front of Eddie.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I really did.”

“Holy shit,” Richie breathes, staring at Eddie’s spit slicked lips. “Hot.”

He kisses Eddie’s mouth, licking into it, and Eddie  _ really _ wants to brush his teeth now.

Richie presses his lips against Eddie’s, smiling into the kiss. “Okay, go brush your teeth.”

Eddie kisses him back, then tries to appear less than frantic about getting to the bathroom. He has to rinse his mouth out with mouthwash three times before the taste is finally gone, and then he returns.

Richie has sprawled out on the bed, breathing softly. Eddie smacks his ass teasingly, and Richie laughs and wiggles his hips. “How was it?”

“Good,” Richie mumbles. “Not as good as getting fucked, but  _ good.” _

“Good,” Eddie says, rubbing his back. 

“How’d you like it?” Richie asks.

“It was worth it for feeling your legs shake,” he teases. “Love your legs.”

“Hmm,” Richie murmurs. “Maybe later you can suck some hickies into my thighs. I bet I’d feel them between my legs when I’m running around on stage like some kinda rabid terrier.”

Eddie shivers at that. “That sounds good.”

“Thought you’d like that,” Richie says, stretching lazily.

Eddie grins and slides his hand up Richie’s neck and into his hair. “Now can I brush your hair, ya dumb baby?”

“Hey,” Richie says, “you have to treat me like a  _ lady.” _

Eddie snorts and shoves his face into his pillow, flipping his hair over his head and grabbing the brush. “You have nicer hair than any lady.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Richie laughs.

“It means I like you and your beautiful head of hair,” Eddie replies, and starts methodically brushing the tangles out of Richie’s hair. “Now be still before I tug half of it out because it’s a goddamn  _ bird’s nest…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> richie has stretchmarks all over his body from having grown like 50 feet between the age of 13 and 18, pass it on


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you put a gun to my head and asked me to describe the emotional genre of this chapter i would not be able to tell you

“Say aaa,” Eddie says.

Richie lets out a noise that doesn’t sound much like  _ aaa  _ at all, but more like a frog being strangled. Eddie laughs despite himself, and Richie flips him off.

Eddie snorts and turns off the flashlight he’s shining down Richie’s throat, putting it away before stroking Richie’s hair out of his face so he can kiss Richie’s forehead. “I think you’ll live,” he says gently.

Richie’s lower lip juts out dramatically, trying to compensate for the fact that his voice is completely, utterly gone. At least it had lasted the last of Richie’s insane streak of back to back shows, and now Richie has a small break. 

(Eddie kind of wants to strangle Richie’s manager. Richie’s popularity is blooming, sure, but that’s no reason to work him into the ground. Eddie has half a mind to break down the guy’s door with an entire speech about suicide rates and health issues in comedians and an entire diagram about just how much Richie runs around on stage, and he’d probably be backed up by Stan, too, but he’s trying not to overreact  _ just _ yet. For now, he’ll let Richie process the excitement and make sure he doesn’t burn himself out in the first year of success.)

“Hmm, the things I could do with you while you can’t talk…” Eddie teases.

Richie throws a hand over his chest, acting very scandalized. Eddie grins. It’s charming just how loud Richie can be just with his body, long limbs all over the place projecting Richie’s personality.

Still, Richie looks tired. He’s just gotten back from San Diego, and his hair is limp and greasy from the long plane ride and there’s dark circles under his eyes.

“Actually, if you’re up for it, how about that cleaning kink?” Eddie murmurs.

Richie’s face breaks out in a wry smile, eyes teasing Eddie with the same sharpness he’d do with words.

“Fuck you,” Eddie says without any bite, and swings Richie into his arms. He’s been working with Ben as of late, and while he certainly couldn’t carry Richie very long, he’s going to make it to the bathroom while carrying him if it’s the last thing he does. Richie lets out a croaky little squeak, clinging to Eddie for dear life.

Eddie sets him down, letting Richie slump into himself as he sees fit while Eddie runs a bath.

It’s too quiet without Richie’s chatter, so Eddie sits on the side of the tub and decides to do it himself. “So Helga, at work, keeps asking me for relationship advice,” he says. “I think she thinks that because I’m gay, I’m sensitive or something, and I am  _ this _ close to telling her that she’s gonna get that damn divorce anyway. She keeps moaning to me about how hard it is to meet people, like I know some trendy bars where she can find dates. One of these days I’m gonna tell her that in my experience the best way to ‘meet someone’ is to see them eating sand across the playground and run over to yell at them about germs.”

Richie laughs, but there’s not really enough power in his voice to guffaw like he usually would, so instead Eddie gets to take a moment to really appreciate how cute his smile is. How his eyes crinkle and his front teeth scrape against his full bottom lip when the giggling dies down.

“Oh, man,” Eddie says, taking Richie’s chin in hand. “You are so pretty.”

“I should shut up more often,” Richie croaks, more of a whisper than anything.

“You should shut up right now,” Eddie says. “You’re gonna damage your vocal chords, shithead.” He leans in to kiss Richie’s cheek. “It’s not like I don’t notice other times. I guess I just don’t remember to say it.”

Richie shrugs. He nibbles at his lip and then gestures Eddie closer. “Your mom made you jump hoops to prove you loved her,” he whispers. “But you’re better at showing it in your own ways.” He kisses Eddie’s cheek and looks up at him with earnest eyes.

Eddie swallows hard around the lump in his throat. “That’s a lot of words for someone who sounds like a whole snake is down their windpipe,” he manages, but he pulls Richie’s head into his sternum so he can gently comb his hands through his hair. He plants another kiss on Richie’s head and then goes to shut off the water, trying not to sniffle.

“Okay,” he says, tugging his shirt off and setting it on the sink.

Richie bites his lip playfully as Eddie snag his glasses, then helps him out of the (stolen) hoodie he’d worn on the airplane and his jeans, letting Eddie slide his hands under his armpits and maneuver him into the bath.

Richie lets out a satisfied hum at the hot water enveloping his muscles, and looks up at Eddie expectantly.

Eddie stares back at him, unsure of himself for a moment. Richie had really thrown him off with that observation, that casual assurance that Richie loves him for real, understanding and patient, and now Eddie craves whatever the hell this is even more, but he doesn’t really know what’s going on or what to do. He wants to take care of Richie, but there’s a slippery, fuzzy aspect to it that Eddie has called the “oh, this is, like, a childhood trauma thing, isn’t it?” factor.

His heart is pounding and he doesn’t get why.

Richie slides under the water and blows bubbles until Eddie smiles and takes a deep breath.

“I think this might only be a kink because of some kind of fucked up mommy issue still rattling around in my brain,” Eddie admits.

Richie snorts into the water and shrugs, eyes twinkling at Eddie.

That should be enough, that playful little look that means Richie’s having fun, but right now it’s just not, because Richie just pointed out how much better he is than Eddie’s mom was and Eddie suddenly can’t convince himself that  _ he’s _ better than his mom was, because he’s tracing his steps through all the things he likes in bed and he just feels horrid and poisonous, grasping desperately for the control he thinks he  _ deserves _ and calling it love and saying he wants to keep Richie safe, and it’s supposed to be okay because he wants Richie to flourish, but here Richie is voiceless and exhausted and Eddie  _ hates _ his success in that frantic part of his heart that never stops spewing all the nervous garbage that his mother dug in there.

“Is that… like… is this okay?” Eddie asks, because there’s a horrible taste in his mouth at all this in that muddled way where he knows can’t get his brain out of the ditch without a hand from Richie. “Like, I’m… It’s kinda fucked up, right, like… like… my mom uses taking care of me as a goddamn pillow to choke me to death with and then I’ve got a fetish for it? And it’s not… I mean I’m not feeding you fake pills, I guess, but her being obsessed with keeping me safe and me getting off on taking care of you, like… it’s all connected and I’m, like, I’m playing her role and that’s… that’s…” 

Richie’s long fingers wrap around the back of his neck and pull him forward until their foreheads bump together, and he can’t speak at the moment, but he doesn’t need to. Eddie can practically hear his voice from all the times he’s helped Eddie through all this. _ Breathe in, breathe out. _

He brings his hands up to cup Richie’s face in them and kisses him. Richie’s lips are warm on his, shoulders loose and breathing soft.

He pulls back and mouths,  _ It’s okay, _ relaxed in the way Eddie has probably never been. 

No, that’s an exaggeration. Richie gets him there, when Eddie has him close and safe and  _ happy. _ He likes Richie  _ happy. _

Richie laughs at him, all croaky and pleased.

“Your manager should take better care of you,” Eddie murmurs. “I’m not crazy for thinking so, Stan says so too.”

Richie chuckles even louder, because Eddie’s failed to make the connections out loud again, he’s just blurting out his anxieties all over the place, like always, no timing and consistency like Richie manages in both his jokes and his serious moments.

What Eddie means to say is: I love you, and I want the best for you, and just because my mother used to lie to me about what that meant doesn’t make it wrong when its real.

Eddie rubs his hands over his face and sits back onto his heels. “Okay,” he says instead. “I’m okay.”

_ You sure? _ Richie mouths.

Eddie nods. “I love you,” he says, and wow, Richie’s a little painfully right. Eddie is better at going off road for this sort of thing - expressing himself through little kisses, teasing, late night cuddles instead of the proper ways, the ways his mother demanded, even when he was crawling out his own front door to try to avoid it. He’s said  _ I love you _ to Richie plenty of times, but he’s said it to his mother dozens upon dozens of times, like a trained dog to his mother’s sickly sweet  _ aren’t you forgetting something, Eddie? _ “Like, for real.”

Richie nods too, like he knows everything Eddie’s thinking. And maybe he does, because Richie just softly and gently understands and loves him.

Eddie kisses him again, then one more time, then shoves him into the water. “Can I paint your nails?”

Richie grins at him, like he’s itching to tease Eddie for the absurd way his brain works, and Eddie holds his gaze, rubbing in the fact that Richie can’t. Richie sinks into the water and gleefully blows a childish little  _ pffbt _ at him through the surface, and presents his fingers.

Eddie doesn’t paint his nails often, because as much as he likes the colors, it turns out that he puts his hands in his mouth quite a bit without realizing, and nail polish tastes very bad. But he likes to paint his toenails, and he likes the way it looks, and Richie has nice, long fingers.

“How do you feel about red?” Eddie asks, getting out the nail polish and his nail kit.

Richie gives him a nod of approval, and Eddie takes one hand in his own and starts clipping his nails and filing them down. He babbles at Richie about office gossip for a while, but after a while Richie slumps against the side of the bathtub and yawns, and Eddie trails off to kiss his nose and adjust himself so he’s got one arm around Richie while he works, letting Richie doze.

Eddie shudders, liking the soft sigh Richie lets out as Eddie maneuvers his fingers to paint the nails.

When he’s finally done, he goes to put the polish away, but Richie raises his head like he’s just woken up fully. “Toesies,” he croaks, water sloshing as he wriggles around and sticks his feet in Eddie’s face.

Eddie laughs. “Okay, okay,” he says. “You enjoying yourself?”

Richie hums and nods, resting his head against the corner of the tub.

Eddie kisses up his calf, and Richie’s breath hitches, sending a spike of pleasure through Eddie. He shifts so his heel rubs up against his dick a little while he does Richie’s toes, too, occasionally rubbing his thumb into the arch of Richie’s feet and taking pleasure in how Richie hums in satisfaction. His feet must be sore from all that time on stage.

He paints his toenails and then sets to work on massaging the kinks out of Richie’s feet, relishing every small, croaked noise he draws from Richie. He moves his hands up to Richie’s legs and massages his calves too, and Richie moans.

“Sssh,” Eddie murmurs. “Take care of your voice.”

Richie cracks open one eye, giving Eddie a dirty look.

Eddie grins at him, pressing his palms up Richie’s thighs to knead at them for a bit. Richie tries to stifle his noises, but he’s not good at it. Eddie takes mercy on him and eases him down so he can get Richie’s hair wet.

Richie forgets to muffle his noises as Eddie rakes his hands through Richie’s hair, separating the strands, and Eddie doesn’t chide him this time, just grins. Richie loves this, and that makes Eddie shivery with pleasure.

Eddie grabs the conditioner and massages it in, listening closely for the breathy little noises that Richie lets out as Eddie’s fingers scrape his scalp, smoothing the conditioner through his hair.

He sits him up, pressing his head forward so he can massage his back while the conditioner sets in. Richie lets it happen, groaning whenever Eddie presses his fingers into the more stubborn knots.

“There we go,” Eddie says softly, and it’s the first thing either of them has said for a while. They’re never this quiet together, and it’s a little odd but also something Eddie might like once in a blue moon.

Eddie tilts his head back and washes the conditioner out, watching Richie’s Adam’s apple bob as Eddie’s fingers catch in his curls. He shampoos him next, kissing his shoulders as he scratches his scalp carefully, enough to make Richie mewl under his breath.

Eddie washes his hair out again, tugging ever so slightly at the long strands - Richie’s hair is well past his shoulders by now, and it’s  _ beautiful. _

Richie’s lips part and he looks up at Eddie, content and flushed, and Eddie feels warm and oddly powerful. He can do this. He can make Richie feel good and safe and relaxed.

Eddie unbuttons his jeans, cock hard already, and shrugs them off. He leaves them on the floor in his eagerness to clamber into the water with Richie, straddling his lap so he can grind against him. Richie is half hard, likely from the hair tugging, but he grows hard against Eddie easily, fingers slipping into the divots of Eddie’s spine.

Eddie mouths at his neck, sucking a hickey into it, worrying at the flesh with the tiniest little nibbles until its sure to leave a bruise. 

Richie rolls his hips against him, moaning, voice cracking erratically until he’s coming, jolting against Eddie and tugging him in closer until he goes limp.

Eddie’s still hard, and since their in a tub anyway and he still has to rinse the cum, soap and shampoo off of Richie with the shower after this anyway, he gets onto his knees, supporting himself on the tile as he jerks himself off, coming all over Richie’s face.

Richie’s breath catches, back arching and lips curving as he licks at the cum that dripped down his nose and into his mouth.

Eddie grins at the way he flushes. Maybe he can get used to how gross it is to leave his jizz all over Richie’s face if he looks like that. Maybe he can even let it stay for a little bit, let it dry into Richie’s curls before washing it out himself so there’s something in it for both of them.

But that’s something for another day, he thinks, pulling the plug out of the drain and grabbing the showerhead.

He watches as Richie eyes him and takes another almost experimental lick at the cum all over his face, and steels himself long enough to drag his thumb through the streak on his chin and into his mouth.

Richie moans, breathy and helpless and sucks at the thumb, eyes going hazy and almost crossing.

It’s very, very nice to watch, which makes it all the more annoying that Eddie unintentionally breathes, “Ew.”

Richie laughs around his thumb and then gestures at him to bring on the shower.

Eddie laughs too. “It’s not… shut up, it’s, like,  _ sticky. _ In a weird fucking way!”

Richie pulls off with a pop and nods sagely.

“You looked amazing, though,” Eddie mutters.

Richie grins at him brightly, and Eddie sighs. He’ll get over it. Sometime. But for now, he turns on the showerhead and rinses everything off.

**

He tucks Richie into bed with extra kisses that night, and ends up sitting up reading even as Richie snores softly beside him, curled up against Eddie’s thigh.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so lucky to have you,” Eddie whispers. Richie mumbles gently in his sleep, wrinkling his nose. It’s soft and sweet and Eddie loves him so much.

And yeah, Richie  _ knows, _ but Eddie’s made a living out of choosing to be brave at every crossroads, in no small part because of Richie, so he takes out a notepad from his drawer and scribbles down all the sappy, conventional  _ I love you _ s that he apparently shies away from and slips it onto the nightstand on Richie’s side of the bed, then kisses him on the forehead and goes back to his book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think the next chapter may be the last and i also think it might have become less of a blindfolds chapter and more of a lingerie chapter but oh well


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does there need to be an extra warning for barebacking and How Eddie Deals With That or like... idk?? anyway that happens here

Eddie loves the feeling of silk.

Richie notices when they’re hunting for blindfolds. It’s their first time in a sex shop together, and blindfolds and lingerie are all grouped along the same wall. Richie is freaking out, eyeing everyone with an absurd,  _ Haha, just two bros shopping for blindfolds together, nothing to see here!! _ on the tip of his tongue when he sees Eddie sweep his hand over one of the silk blindfolds and across a useless bra and a very corny nightgown of some kind before snatching it back.

A few years ago, Richie would have panicked over Eddie I’m-not-bi-I-just-think-tits-just-look-very-touchable Kaspbrak ogling a bunch of bras, but right now it knocks Richie out of his earlier funk with an endeared little surge of affection. “Need another space on your list?” he teases.

Eddie goes bright red. “No,” he says. 

“No?” Richie prods, grinning.

“No!” Eddie snaps. “I don’t want you thinking any more bullshit about how I secretly want a woman.”

“Oh, so  _ I’d _ be wearing the panties, eh?” Richie says, picking up a pair of silk panties with an absolutely atrocious, itchy lining of lace and stretching it between his thumbs so he can wiggle his fingers.

Eddie snatches away the panties and puts them back, instead handing Richie a silk blindfold. “Stop,” he says. “I don’t need you to wear panties.”

“Oh,  _ need,”  _ Richie laughs. “Okay, Spaghetti, noted.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie grumbles, and goes to pay.

Richie slips one finger into Eddie’s belt loop while he pays, and feels like he just ran a marathon for the next thirty minutes, but he’s very pleased with himself.

**

“Patricia, Beverly, I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve called you here today,” Richie declares.

“I live here,” Patty reminds him, because they’re in their kitchen.

“You texted me this morning you were making waffles,” Bev says.

“A clever ploy by me on both accounts, I know,” Richie replies. His palms are sweaty. “Do either of you know where to get lingerie in my size?”

“Yes,” Bev says.

Patty very cooly hides behind that response, and Richie wants  _ so _ badly to know more, but he doesn’t want to push just yet, because he needs a support crew. A whole mission control center. Someone in his ear telling him how gay he’s allowed to be in a lingerie store. “Great,” he says, nervously swinging on the edge of the table, the edges pressing into his palms as he lifts himself. He’s gonna break the table and then what will he tell Stan and Eddie? “Can you guys… um… clear a few hours today and help me?”

They regard him quietly for a moment before both of them mumble agreements, and Richie breathes out a sigh of relief. “Thank you thank you thank you,” he manages. “I love you both.”

Patty rolls her eyes, but she’s also smiling, so Richie kisses her on the cheek in gratitude.

“There’s a place near Broadway that should work,” she says, “you’re only a little bigger than Stanley.”

“Please  _ god _ tell me more,” Richie begs. “I will do  _ anything.” _

“No,” she says. “Come on, let’s find you something pretty.”

“You’re a monster,” he replies, while Bev loses it with laughter, but he’s glad to have them.

**

He never finds out anything incriminating about their precious Stanley, but he does come home with a bag of discrete goodies that he has to clutch to his chest in case he - what? Bumps into someone on the way home, sending panties flying all over the New York sidewalk, has someone snap a photo and suddenly the headline on the New York Times will be, “Budding comedian Richie Trashmouth found in New York with a bunch of panties, the big gay bastard”? 

Maybe, Richie thinks, being in the closet is starting to wear him down. Maybe it would be a relief to have it out there and deal with the shitstorm at face value instead of spinning ridiculous stories that wouldn’t happen. For fuck’s sake, Richie saw a man visibly wearing a thong on the subway three weeks ago and no one gave a shit.

This isn’t Derry. They fucking survived Derry. They’re superheroes.

But that’s a thought for another day. For now, Richie has to seduce his boyfriend with his stuck up love of silk.

Richie waits until he has a week off between shows and Eddie has a long weekend with just one half day shift.

He makes Eddie breakfast like usual - Eddie doesn’t demand it, but Richie pays attention. Toasted bread for the sandwich, only egg whites, dab the bacon dry, cut the tomato thin and slip it between the bacon and egg so it doesn’t get soggy. Richie doesn’t even know if Eddie is awake enough to appreciate the precision, but he likes the thought of Eddie sitting on the subway sleepily enjoying the perfect sandwich Richie made him.

Richie watches him yawn his way through pulling on his vest - denim, with lots of pockets, because at some point he’d decided it was a very punk way to replace his fanny packs - and checking the pockets for all the little things he needs for the day, and then clears his throat. “Before I give you your breakfast and coffee,” Richie says, “please stick your hand down my pants.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie says, more awake than before but extremely confused.

“Pleeeeease?” Richie pleads.

Eddie squints at him, but he sighs and steps closer to slip his hand over Richie’s ass under his sweatpants. He freezes when he feels silk. 

Richie grins at him, ducking away and handing him the breakfast sandwich and thermos of coffee.

“Richie,” Eddie says weakly. “I’m a surgeon. I need to concentrate.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Richie assures him, kissing his cheek sweetly and steering him out the door. “Have fun at work, dear!”

“You fucking--!” Eddie starts, before Richie shuts the door in his face, giggling madly.

**

“Asshole!” Eddie says, several hours later when he bursts in the door, and Richie would like to think he spent all day just waiting to finish his sentence, muttering it to himself even during surgery.

“Did you kill anyone today?” Richie asks, batting his lashes.

Eddie clearly wants to yell at him for even asking, but then clearly Richie’s appearance cuts through his rage and it’s clearly over for his thought process. “What the  _ fuck,” _ he grits out, “are you wearing?”

“You like it?” Richie says, spreading his legs and wiggling his ass.

“Do I…” Eddie manages. “Do…?” He takes a deep breath. “You’re not going to be  _ weird _ about this, right?”

“Nnnnnope,” Richie says, rolling over so Eddie can see his chest. “I told Bev and Patty that this wasn’t crossdressing, which is why I am not wearing a padded bra, even though there were a lot of those.”

“So, you’re… wearing a…” Eddie says before trailing off, because they’re two gay dudes from Maine and Eddie has about as much idea what various pieces of lingerie are called as Richie did before Patty and Bev helped him out.

“It’s called a camisole,” he says smugly, like he’d known that before Patty told him (after he’d stammered his way through explaining that he didn’t want to wear a  _ bra _ because he’s not trying to pretend he has tits, he just thinks Eddie likes tits, like, aesthetically, and he’d probably like something that makes Richie’s very masculine chest look nice and silky and hot.)

“And the… the…” Eddie says, like he’d been intentionally holding off on working his way down so he’d be ready. Clearly, he didn’t hold off long enough.

“Oh, these babies?” Richie asks, spreading his legs as far as he can and sliding his hands down the garters to the thigh-highs connected to them, and then down his knees along the red silk that runs all the way down to his toes. “Thought you might like them.”

Eddie looks at him like he’s crazy, like the concept of someone not being wildly invested in several feet of silk over their boyfriend’s long legs is so deeply foreign to him that even joking about it not being a certainty is insane.

“Fuck!” Eddie manages, and then he’s ripping off his sweater and jeans so he’s just in an old AC/DC shirt and boxers, and frankly Richie thinks that’s sexier than lingerie. But he gets the feeling that if he says so, Eddie’s head might genuinely explode. He shoves Richie back onto the bed hard enough that all of Richie’s breath leaves him.

He kisses Richie so hard that their teeth clack together, his tongue maneuvering in Richie’s mouth in a way that Richie isn’t sure is  _ skilled _ per se, but which is definitely doing it for Richie, hands in Richie’s hair and wow Richie’s probably going to die today.

Eddie’s fingers rake through his hair until he gets a good grip and pulls Richie’s head to the side and digs his teeth in. “Oh!” Richie exclaims, grabbing at Eddie’s back. That’s going to leave a mark and god does Richie love that. “Fuck!”

“Shit,” Eddie croaks, and then he’s sliding down and wrapping his hands around Richie’s thighs, pulling his legs up, and then his tongue is flat against Richie’s nipple through the silk shirt. Which wasn’t a kink Richie really  _ had _ but Eddie is moving his tongue like Richie’s nipple is the best tasting ice cream on the planet and that’s… that’s good.

However, he also starts laughing. “Silky nipple,” he manages to get out before he collapses into hysterics.

“Oh my god, for once in your life just shut up and be sexy properly,” Eddie says, but he’s also laughing as he shifts up Richie’s body to suck another hickey into his neck and then kiss him feverishly, trying his goshdarned hardest to ignore Richie’s giggling.

Richie still crying laughing, though, so Eddie gives up and returns to mouthing at Richie’s nipple like he’s starving for it, and Richie tries to breathe through it but he’s turned on and euphoric from laughing and lack of oxygen and his head is spinning so hard he nearly shrieks when Eddie slides his hands under the small of Richie’s back to wrench him up a little so he’s arched back over Eddie’s forearms, hair spilling across the pillows.

Eddie’s teeth worry at his nipples as his hands rove over Richie’s ass, trying to make sense of the garter belt and pantie situation.

“The um… belt is under the panties,” Richie manages, and his lungs seem to have forgotten how to work. “So you can take them off without knockin’ my socks off. Only metaphorically.”

He taps Eddie’s ass with his foot and Eddie’s fingers finally find their way under the edge of the panties to grab his ass skin to skin, and Richie whimpers.

Eddie stops doing whatever he’s doing with his mouth suddenly and rests his forehead against Richie’s chest with a shuddering breath. “Are you… um… are you okay to take the lead a little bit?” he asks.

“Uh,” Richie says, because Eddie really, really likes control and Richie, frankly, likes absolution even more. “Sure?”

“Because, um, I kind of need your help here,” Eddie says. “Like. Like when I was in med school?”

“Ohhhh-kay,” Richie says. “Because?”

“Because I can’t feel this silk through latex gloves,” Eddie says. “And I… I think I’m just… I’m just going to finger you. Like. Without. Without putting them on.”

Richie lets out an odd noise like he’s been punched in the stomach. “Oh. Oh boy,” he says, because this is  _ big _ for Eddie. Shoving his  _ anything _ in Richie’s ass without protection is, like,  _ big _ for Eddie. Really, really… “What… um… what do you want me to do?” he asks, sitting up and trying to get his brain back on track.

“Just, like,” Eddie says, rubbing his hands over his face. “Can you just guide my hand? And promise not to take it personally if I gag? It’s not you, I swear, it’s...”

Richie laughs at that. “I know, everybody p…”

“Do not,” Eddie snaps. “I’m serious, do not even  _ joke _ about…”

“Okay, okay,” Richie gripes. He shoves at Eddie. “Scooch.”

He shoves until Eddie is on his back and Richie’s straddling him. 

And boy, here he is, straddling Eddie, pressing him into the bed while covered head to toe in silk lingerie.

Their eyes meet and they both laugh, similarly nervous. 

Richie’s glad he laid down a bunch of towels before Eddie got here, because it’s a little easier. One less thing to worry about - dirty sheets. He pauses, then murmurs, “Want some wet wipes to clean your hand off as soon as possible? We wouldn’t even really need to interrupt the flow much.” 

“Keep talking dirty to me, babe,” Eddie chokes out, swallowing hard, then nods sharply.

Richie squeezes his shoulder. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Oh, fuck, is this how you felt when we were first dating?” Eddie manages, taking deep breaths. “Yeah, I want this, I’m just freaking out.”

“Cool!” Richie says with obvious faux cheer, reaching over to the desk drawer to get a pack of wet wipes. “If this is how  _ you _ felt when we first started dating, I’m very sorry, because I’m super stressed right now!”

“Are  _ you…?” _

“Yep, yeah,” Richie says, because he really, really is. He wants Eddie’s bare skin inside him, even if they’re both a little panicked and looking at each other like teenagers who just found out you  _ could _ fuck but not  _ how. _ “Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair and tries not to freak out entirely.

“Tuck your hair behind your left ear,” Eddie demands.

“Okay?” Richie manages, doing as he’s told.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie says. “That’s a nice bite mark.”

Richie huffs a laugh at that.

“You look amazing,” Eddie says, taking a deep breath and putting his hands back on Richie’s ass.

“As do you,” Richie says, in what he thinks might be a Voice, but a bad one.

Eddie laughs and his fingers bounce up and down for a moment, like he’s trying to make himself reach under Richie’s panties again, and Richie reaches back but doesn’t take his hands yet, not sure where he’s supposed to intervene.

Eddie’s fingers slide under the hem and then freeze there, and Richie supports himself with one hand and takes one of Eddie’s wrists and guides his hand down until he feels Eddie’s warm, smooth finger against his hole.

Eddie gags.

Richie giggles at him and lets him pause there for a moment.

“Sorry,” Eddie mutters. “It’s… It’s really fine.”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “I’m good, actually.” Because he is. It’s very Eddie, and Richie is getting good at letting Eddie’s fundamental Eddie-ness drown out the voice in Richie’s head that insists Richie is Wrong. He strangles down a joke about shit and awkwardly moves his hand so one of his fingers is over Eddie’s and pushes.

“No!” Eddie shouts. “Nope, no! Lube! Lubelubelube!”

Richie stops, a small laugh bubbling up through his chest. “What?”

“I can’t be worrying about anal tears right now, I need, like, a metric fuckton of lube for this,” Eddie babbles.

“Okay okay,” Richie says, sitting back so he can open up the tub of lube. Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut, so Richie pulls his hand up and slides his fingers into the lube.

Eddie  _ shrieks _ and jumps like he does when he thinks he’s accidentally touched something really gross, and Richie’s entire being seems to be going into not laughing himself into a coma right now. “It’s just lube,” he says. “It’s just…” A strangled laugh escapes his throat. “It’s just lube.” 

“I know! I fucking know that!” Eddie says, but he’s struggling with a smile at Richie’s efforts not to laugh. “God. I’m so sorry, fuck.”

“It’s okay,” Richie assures him. “I’m totally telling everyone you did that, though.”

Eddie cracks an eye open at him grumpily, watching as Richie guides his hand back where it was and tries to push Eddie’s fingers in like before.

Eddie gags again, then whispers, “Fuck.”

Richie grins. “Remember our safewords?”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Richie says. “So we’re good.” He presses onward, trying to keep his breathing even as he presses Eddie’s finger in, drawing his own finger back once Eddie’s curls inside him. “There we go, baby,” Richie says. “You’re good. You’re fine.”

“Mhmm,” Eddie says, looking a little green around the edges, but he pushes his finger inside a little more.

“Um,” Richie tries. “Uh. Look, the second you finger me open, you can clean your hand, right? And then we’ll get a condom on--”

“No condom,” Eddie says.

Richie whimpers. “Come… Come again?” he says, voice weak.

“We’re ripping off this bandaid,” Eddie says. “We’re both… we’re both clean, we have the papers. It’s fine. I looked up barebacking and it’s not… it’s not a problem, really, if you’re both clean. I’ll just wash off right after.”

“You’re really, um,” Richie manages, “gonna say that and still ask me to take the lead, huh?”

“Once I’m inside you you can go full scarecrow, I promise,” Eddie says, smiling. 

“Scarecrow?” Richie asks.

“If only I had a brain,” Eddie sings.

Richie giggles. Eddie’s thrusting his finger further inside, and Richie wants to go brain dead  _ now, _ thank you very much, but Eddie needs this and Richie would do anything for him. “We’re off to see the wizard…” he murmurs, guiding another finger inside himself. He’s probably imagining it, but he feels like he can feel Eddie’s fingerprints sliding against his hole.

Eddie presses his fingers - his bare fingers - against Richie’s prostate, and for some reason, along with the fact that he knows Eddie’s going to fuck him bare after this, that’s enough to send his eyes nearly rolling up into his head with pleasure.

_ “That’s _ helping,” Eddie murmurs. “Keep being really into this.”

“I’ll do my best,” Richie says, shuddering when Eddie keeps rubbing his fingers over Richie’s prostate.

Richie barely has to help him with the third finger, which is good because it’s so damn hard to think. It’s already hard enough to think during sex normally, but now Eddie’s got his bare, hot skin inside Richie and he’s gonna shove his  _ naked _ dick in there and Richie wants it so bad.

He grabs Eddie’s free hand and shows him how to undo the ribbons over his hips that let the panties fall away, and Eddie pulls his fingers out, holding them awkwardly until Richie manages to coordinate his limbs into grabbing a wet wipe and wiping Eddie’s fingers off. 

“Thanks,” Eddie whispers.

“No problem,” Richie says, trying to keep it cool because that’s a very big thank you, because all of this is so, so big for Eddie. And also, Richie is so hard he’s going to explode soon.

Eddie takes a deep breath, and Richie lubes up his dick for him, then positions himself over Eddie’s dick. It’s easier said than done, because Eddie is doing deep breathing exercises while Richie’s trying to balance and guide his erection into Richie’s hole, and when he gets the tip in he nearly slips and falls onto Eddie’s dick before Eddie catches him.

“I wouldn’t have really minded,” Richie murmurs.

“Don’t make me say it,” Eddie warns. “If you make me… I swear to god we’re stopping if…”

Richie doesn’t blurt out  _ anal tears _ just for the hell of it, but it takes a lot of self control. “We’re definitely bad at sex,” he says instead, because Eddie’s holding him up for dear life and Richie’s trying to figure out where to put his legs in order to sink down onto Eddie’s dick safely.

Little by little they manage to maneuver themselves and each other until Richie’s seated on Eddie’s dick. Eddie’s entire naked dick. “Your dick,” he manages, “is naked.”

“It sure is,” Eddie says, and Richie swears he can feel Eddie’s dick twitching inside him like this. He’s so turned on his teeth are grinding together and he shudders all the way down his back. Eddie takes a few deep breaths, and Richie just sits there, frazzled and hard as a rock, seated snuggly on Eddie’s dick.

“This is,” he says slowly, “really weird.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “One more second.”

Richie nods, digging his teeth into his bottom lip as he tries to process this situation. Just sitting on a dick, waiting for his boyfriend to get over his shit-flavored panic attack. Richie grimaces. Not being able to tease Eddie is clearly building up an abundance of really gross imagery in Richie’s brain.

“Okay. Um. Nice and slow,” Eddie murmurs, like Richie has somehow gotten fragile because there’s no condom between him and Eddie’s dick.

Actually, that might be true, but only, like, emotionally.

Eddie rolls them over so Richie is on his back and Eddie is between his legs. And then he thrusts, and Richie honest to god  _ mewls _ , clutching at the sheets like a damsel in a vampire romance novel. 

“Fuck, that feels pretty good,” Eddie says. “Ah fuck fuck I just thought of…”

“Eddie,” Richie snaps, because god, he can only take so much and Eddie asked him to take charge, “I swear to  _ fuck,  _ pull yourself together and fuck me until your cum is inside me or I will weep like a newborn baby.” He clears his throat. “Please.”

Eddie laughs at that. “That would be awkward,” he mumbles, stroking up and down the backs of Richie’s thighs. “God, your legs feel nice like this.”

Lighting him on fire would have been less intense, Richie thinks. “Eddie!” he sobs.  _ “Please!” _

Eddie rolls his hips again. “If this is you taking the lead, I could deal with it happening more often,” Eddie teases.

Richie would try to retort, but Eddie’s finally moving and he feels hot and slick in ways Richie has never felt before, and his hands are still all over Richie’s sensitive legs, touching through the cool silk, and Richie’s brain fizzes out like a shaken up coke bottle.

He clings to Eddie for dear life, grabbing whatever he can reach. Eddie’s still wearing that t-shirt, which is good because Richie can fist it like a handrail as he descends down the steps into a haze of  _ oh holy shit holy shit oh that’s good _ .

And then Eddie’s hand is on his dick and he whines, grasping at Eddie’s hair as he comes, and Eddie  _ doesn’t fucking stop, _ just picks Richie’s leg up a little further and changes his angle until Richie’s all but screaming into his shoulder. Eddie’s thumb is relentless on the head of his dick, and his toes curl as he comes again. 

And after all that, Eddie spills inside him. Richie moans just at the pure thought of it, but even more so at the warmth oozing through him as Eddie pulls out. The aftershocks shake Richie’s entire body in an aching shiver, enough to have him arching against the sheets in ecstasy.

He barely even notices Eddie rambling, “Oh god ew oh god oh, wait, it’s just cum, it’s just… we’re good, it’s just cum,” because his whole body is vibrating with satisfaction, ears ringing and head spinning.

“Eddie,” he manages, wiping away tears, “ssssh.”

Eddie manages a few blessed seconds of silence, thumbing at Richie’s waist while Richie tries to come down. 

Eddie’s cum is dripping down his ass from where Eddie pulled out, and Richie shudders again.

“I need to shower,” Eddie hisses. “Like really really bad.”

“Mmm,” Richie says. “I’ll yell for you if I need you.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, okay?”

Richie hums at him absently, and Eddie runs off, doors slamming behind him as he does.

Richie laughs, basking in the afterglow until Eddie returns.

Eddie clears his throat, sheepish. “Okay, so,” he says. 

Richie refuses to sit up. He’s just going to melt into the bed.

Eddie sits beside him and starts cleaning him up with a wet wipe. Richie’s cum probably got into the silk of his camisole, but whatever.

“I don’t think I can do that often,” Eddie says. “But it’s an option.”

“Mmmmmmhmmmmm,” Richie says. “You fucking came inside me. Like, just… right in there.”

Eddie snorts. “Yeah. I uh… had a little panic attack there for a second but…”

“I didn’t think that was an option,” Richie mumbles dizzily.

“I didn’t think  _ this _ was an option,” Eddie murmurs, fiddling with the garter belt. “So I guess we’re even.”

“I don’t think this is an every time thing either,” Richie says. “It’s, like, work to get on and it’s a lot, like, feelings-wise.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Still even then.”

“Yeah,” Richie says. “Can we cuddle now?”

“Mhmm,” Eddie murmurs, flopping on top of Richie. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Thanks for shooting a load of your juicy jizz inside my ass,” Richie says.

Eddie sighs wearily, but he also laughs a moment later, even before Richie starts giggling, so Richie thinks he wins. “I wish you’d talk less,” Eddie says.

Richie beams at him. “No you don’t.”

Eddie groans. “Fuck off.”

_ Yeah, _ Richie thinks. He definitely wins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay NOW it's one more chapter, which is blindfolds

**Author's Note:**

> if u follow me on tumblr (also dgalerab) you can see me trip over my feet into piles of reddie hcs every single damn day


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